Colonies Among the Stars
by MoztheThief
Summary: Cynthia has always dreamed of a life beyond the stars. The moment she turned 20 and found a willing colonist ship, she began her journey to the newly settled planet Kerralim. There's one catch; it is being co-settled by Protoss. It's all fine until her life is saved by the Protoss colonist leader, Executor Raxadar himself. Rated T for mild language and violence.
1. Chapter 1-The Ship

_It has been nearly two centuries since Emperor Valerian came to power. Within his sudden death, his grand-daughter, Artanissa Mengsk, took the throne, leading the United Terran Dominion into a continued era of peace. Colonist envoys like mine were deported from major hubs of activity, in hopes of expanding our grip on the galaxies._

A heavy sigh.

"New message."

 _The trip has been long, Mom. Writing out this diction every week is killing me. Whatever to keep my sanity, I guess. How are things back at New Haven? Have you finally cleared out that cave of creep? Has Dad had any success with his Tomberries? Tell him I still think it's a stupid idea to mix a saucy vegetable with an actually edible fruit_.

The click of plastic against glass. _Tap, tap, tap._ Pondering, considering.

Pencil against glass.

 _Tap. Tap._

"Delete. Return to the first note."

 _This letter is to inform those who find it that we are now merely a week away from our new settlement on the verdant planet of Kerralim, occupied for only 30 years by the Dominion. If found, it means that we did not make it. We were brave citizens-_

"New message."

 _Mom, I can't write this weekly warning any more. There's no chance we're going to be attacked now that we're so close. We're almost there. We're almost to my new home! I'll send you pictures. I can't wait for you two to save enough credits to come and live with me. I take back what I wrote about tomberries. They're brilliant. Tomato strawberries! Who would have guessed?!_

The rub of synthetic eraser over glass.

"Delete. New message."

 _Mom, I miss you. Write back soon. I know you're still mad that I left without saying goodbye. I say it now. Goodbye, and I can't wait to see you again. Love, Synth._

"S...sen..." A hesitant pause. "Return to the first note."

 _We were brave citizens who were out to find a new world. We praise Artanissa for her choice in homes for her people, and we laid down our lives for the Dominion. Please, find those who destroyed our carrier, and make sure we didn't die in vain._

It's hard to write this. Every week, since the day we'd left my home planet. We write this to make sure the vigilante who finds our corpses in space has something to fuel his non-existent anger.

I personally think it's a waste of time.

No one has attacked a colonist convoy since the Great War. No Zerg. No Protoss.

I sigh, blowing a strand of hair from my eye.

Two months of traveling is awful for one's self esteem. And skin. And psyche.

"Have you finished yet? I heard you restart a few times."

A pair of soft brown eyes glances up over the railing of my top bunk bed. I smile, tiredly holding up my communication tablet and waving it.

"I have declared myself a proud citizen of the Dominion. May whoever finds this admire my handwriting and find themselves lucky to have found a single comtab in the vast reaches of space."

"Amen to that, kid." Reacher smiles, pulling himself up onto the bed, the starched, crinkling blankets crackling beneath his massive, musclebound weight. "I'm sure they'd have problems deciphering the code on mine. I hate writing. Why couldn't we type? It's much easier."

"Handwriting is more personal." I kick his side, trying to nudge him off of my mattress so I can get off. He grins down at me, folding his arms, stoic and unmoving. I kick his shoulder, dropping my comtab and bracing my hands against the wall. I shove, push, prod at him with my feet, trying to get him to _move._

"Is that it-"

I kick his jaw, wrenching his neck back with the solid, satisfying snap of my boot in his cheek. Normally, a man would have lost a few teeth, maybe dislocated his jaw with the force of my jab. Any _normal_ person, emphasis. Of course, Reacher's no _normal_ colonist.

He groans momentarily, reworking his jaw back into place with a 'crunch' of bone on bone. He spits out a single glob of bright blood. And smiles down at me, completely fine.

 _I forgot, again. His father's an ex-Marauder._

"Ka-boom, baby." He snarks, grabbing my toes in a single, massive paw. "Come on, hit me with something convincing." I grunt, swiping at his hand and glaring up at him.

"How 'bout I cut off your nose in the middle of the night?"

"You know if you pull a knife, they'll boot you. Imagine traveling two months in a single roomed ReconPod. _Ouch_." He chuckles again, his fingers slowly closing around the arch of my foot and causing the frail bones to whine and screech in pain.

"REACHER! _KNOCK IT OFF!_ "

A third shadow glances into the room, already reprimanding.

"Come on, you guys, keep the rough housing to a minimum!"

I yell, curling up and wrapping my arm around Reacher's neck, attempting to choke him. The chords in his throat tense, and he huffs, laughing at my futile grabs at his lifeline. Utilizing the hold on my foot, he drags my body backwards and away. And pushes me off and over the safety railing.

I squeal, tumbling from the top. My spine jerks and strains as Reacher's hold on my ankle keeps my head from slamming into the metal panelling of the floor. I dangle uselessly, upside-down, kicking my other foot into the bed, trying to find something to grab on to.

A blue eyed face leans down, her chin twisting to partially match mine.

"Hey, Terra!" Reacher calls, lifting me up single handedly and bringing my face level with the woman's. Terra's button nose is wrinkled, her mouth twisted disapprovingly. She takes her gaze from mine and looks up at the monkey clutching my foot. Reacher grins, swinging me like an asymmetrical pendulum. "Check it out! I caught a _zergling_!"

"Reacher. Put her down." Terra whispers, rubbing her cheeks.

"Why? I beat her, fair and square."

"She's half your size."

"So? She started it."

"Did not!" I holler, curling up, my abdomen muscles straining. "You...should have moved!"

"I didn't hear you ask me to." Reacher replies nonchalantly, putting his chin in the palm of his free hand. Still gripping my boot with a single fist.

I sputter, my already red face flushing. I grab the railing of the bed, supporting myself right side up.

"Lemme go!"

"Say you're sorry." Reacher lifts my foot, placing it against the ceiling. The railing isn't high enough to support me any more, and I yell again, my body drooping. My eye starts to tick, my forehead pounding against my cranium, begging me to right myself.

"Forget it! I'm not-"

"Cynthia, apologize."

I stutter to a stop, grimacing. Terra did it again. Born a natural leader, she'd already mastered that _tone_. Everyone knows it. The tone of a mother to her child. A commander to his soldier. An impromptu quartermaster to two of her charges.

"G-geez..." I pant, folding my arms. My dog tags tinkle against my ear as I close my eyes, my lips straining to keep closed. "S-sorry for chipping your teeth, you bear."

"Apology accepted."

At least he had the decency to let me grip the railing before letting me go.

I wince as my wrist twists, attempting to keep hold of the metal bar, just slipping as I touch down on the metal paneling. Stumbling, I run into the other bed, settling against its supports, puffing my bangs out of my face dishearteningly.

"Do you need another haircut, Cynthia?"

"I don't have enough credits. You've run me dry, _miser_." I glare over my shoulder at Terra, standing casually in her dark orange work smock. Her pants are stained with grease and grime, fresh from a day in the engine room. She tips her hat at me, smiling vaguely. Her own bangs, dyed a deep purple, hang over her eye in her own, infuriatingly casual style.

"And you've trimmed my pockets nicely, you dog. Your hair keeps my business running alone."

"'Snot my fault it grows so fast."

"Your loss. My gain."

"W-well..." I stammer, scrambling to my feet as I did for a good comeback. "We're only a week away. I can survive having too much hair for that long."

"Are you sure?" Reacher teases, vaulting from my bed to the floor. The metal flooring clatters loudly as his weight rocks furniture. Both me and Terra grab each other to keep steady as the solidly built man straightens, flexing his bulging biceps.

"Yeah, I'm sure, you troll." I hiss, releasing my grip on Terra's forearms and heading towards the door. "I'm leaving. I can't stand you guys."

"Aw, Synth!" Terra mocks, standing next to Reacher, dwarfed by his overwhelming shoulders and broad chest. "Come on! Wait-"

Opening the door, I sigh.

"What?"

I look over my shoulder. And regret it instantly.

Terra has her arms around Reacher's neck, her fingers in his thick, dark hair. Snogging him with an overzealous passion. He, of course, is responding enthusiastically, picking her up off of the ground, holding her close. Both of their eyes are peeked open, looking at me, gauging my reaction.

" _You guys are sick!_ " I scream, slamming the door closed. Ignoring their booming laughter, I stalk down the hallway, adjusting my clothing. Tucking my tank top back into my pants. Kicking my boots against the wall and sliding my toes back into place. Pulling my work gloves onto my hands. All routine. I've done this for six weeks. _Handled_ those two for six weeks.

One week left. One week left.

A creak of rusty wheels. An anticipated request.

"Hello, Cynthia! Could you-"

"Got it." I grunt, picking up the box of laundry from Carter's cart, my pace unhindered by the otherwise sudden burden. The gentle old man chuckles, continuing to push his cart down the hall, used to my gruff demeanor and willing service.

No one knows his real name. He moves clothing from one room to another, always accompanied by his old, rugged cart. So we just call him Carter. He's told everyone a million times that he's manned this specific carrier for nearly twenty years. Unable to leave it after his wife died.

I have a habit of running into him often. Whether on purpose or on accident, I'm still not sure. It doesn't matter, I need something to do at this moment.

The metal grates clang under my feet, and I glance out the windows, my messy ponytail flipping into my face. I blow my bangs out of my hair, again. Look out the windows fully.

The stars are so cold out there, in the distant night. They twinkle so close together, nearly touching in some places, though I know in actuality, they are leagues apart. I pause in walking, staring up at the specks of red and white and deep, burning orange.

I can't even imagine the billions of worlds that could be existing out there, just out of reach. I've heard of too many to count on my fingers and toes, but any sort of interplanetary travel takes months, even years, so I know I can never visit them. I only have images and others recounted memories to keep alive the idea of volcanic spheres and jungle wastelands.

But standing there, holding a basket full of other people's clothing, my body and face grimy from months of travel and close accommodations with a rough crowd...I can't help but dream of everything out there.

I'd initially wanted to join the military. Become a Banshee pilot, or a Medic on the front lines. I'd even been willing to pilot an SCV suit, as long as I got deployed and saw as many planets as I could before getting blown up.

My parents weren't very enthusiastic about my interests. They'd tried to tether me to their work as botanists and kindle my passion for plant breeding. When that didn't work, they orchestrated a million dates with other young men my age. On my planet. With plans on _staying_.

None of that caught my eye. No plants. No men. Not my house. Not the fields. The whole planet was a bore. It was interesting to run into remnants of the time where the first colonists had been infested. Traces of living, crawling creep on stone walls, plants shriveled and ready to attack anyone who tread near.

But even that got dull after the fiftieth time.

I sighed, pushing off the wall I had subconsciously leaned against while I delved into my thoughts. The stars wink out of sight as I walk deeper into the ship's interior. I check the box in my arms. Room 307. Turning down several hallways, past a few doors, I drop the box in front of the door with the matching number, knocking, 'you're welcome' ing.

 _How did I get here? Why am I doing this?_

 _Oh, right._

It had started with a poster. On the wall of the tavern.

It was the first time I'd snuck out. At the age of twenty, I was ashamed to admit that I'd never gone drinking. The air had been smokey. Full of men and women laughing and screaming and throwing multicolored pins at Protoss dummies. I'd tried to walk to the bar, but the bartender didn't accept my credits.

Said I was too young. I countered that I only looked young.

He thought I was lying. So he directed me out.

 _I'm still so bored._

I walked farther into the ship. Past the cafeteria. The pilot's cockpit. Down a pair of stairwells. Leaning over a railing, I watched the hustle and bustle of the engineers. Of my fellow coworkers.

 _SEEKING COLONISTS AND ENGINEERS!_

That's what the poster had said. It was a call to change. For those twenty and older. Ready to get out there. To find a place to settle. The stipulations were simple: Must be willing to work aboard the ship and on the planet's surface. I was the daughter of a local farmer. I'd plowed the ground since I was four.

I was ready to leave. Learning the workings of the engine were simple enough, and in no time, I was aboard and off. Among a motley crowd of ex-militants and older women who were tired of the local pub owner's fees.

The night I left was the second night I'd ever snuck out.

Something happened.

Not then, now.

I was pulled from my nostalgic wanderings, my brain alerting me to the renewed bustle of energy below me. The engineers began to scramble, suddenly frantic, adjusting and hammering at pieces of equipment.

They were moving the ship. Out of the scheduled time frame.

"H-hey!" I call to a woman, Bessy. She's hefting a box of wrenches on a pulley below me, getting it out of the way. She looks up at me, dark skin wet with sweat as she huffs. "What's going on?!"

"P-Protoss ship! Jumping to our coordinates from the starboard side! We-" She pants, wiping her wrinkled brow. "-we've gotta move or we'll get hit!" Once finished, she ran back into the crowd of engineers, listening to the foreman's call and following his directions. I leap over the rail onto the steps a foot down, merging into the mass of sweating, heaving bodies.

My hands are directed to a lever, and I'm instructed not to pull it until told. I nod. Hold steady. _NOW_.

My arms quiver as I pull back. The hiss and clicking, whirring mass of gears turning surrounds me. The engine engaging, firing up. The temperature increases dramatically, and I pant, my body already soaked in congealed sweat.

Those around me pant in cadence. We all work together. We all pull together.

"Disengage! Bessy, Fredrick, Cynthia, Collin! Disengage!"

I let the lever go, and it snaps back into place, letting the engine die with a growl. Three others do the same.

Collin, a tall, lean man in his forties, leans forward, panting. His wife runs forward, mopping his head with a chilled towel. She turns to me next, wiping my cheeks.

"Thanks, Rita."

She nods, now mopping at Fredrick's...Freddie's face. I scowl, attempting to push through the crowd, away from him. The young man, twenty-three, as he's told me too many times to count, smiles his dimpled smile appreciatively at Rita, whirling to face me. The crowd can't get out of the way fast enough, and I'm thrown back into his arms.

"Hey, Synthy-kins!" he calls sweetly, draping a sweaty arm over my back and hugging my chest to his. "So glad you could join us."

"I wish I hadn't." I growl, trying to shake him off. "If I'd known you'd be around."

"Oh, come on! We're going to be together forever, so why not start getting to know each other here and now?"

"We're _not_ together at _all_." I hiss, pulling him off of me. His green eyes, etched with gold, glow down at me, still alight with heavy labor. And barely contained joy. I am still, at this moment, unable to tell if it's real or just an elaborate act.

There was a third stipulation to coming on this colonist cruise. Scrawled on the bottom corner of the poster.

You had to have a partner. One willing to help you _populate_ the planet.

I'd been unfortunate enough not to know that fact. So was he. We'd boarded together, pretending to be a married couple. Ended up in the same room together, with Reacher and Terra. We were just... _stuck together._

Being around the two adults was bad enough, but then I had this _puppy_ to deal with. The man doggedly followed me around, spending the first week thanking me for taking him along, the next seven trying to get on my _good_ side. My _really good_ side.

It wasn't working. I wouldn't let it.

Freddie took his arm off me, instead grabbing at my hand.

"Wanna go get some lunch together, Synthy-kins?" he asks. "And then we can watch the Protoss ship-"

"I've already eaten. So, no. No nope no. I'm going to go take a nap."

"Oh..." he looks so downhearted. I don't care. "I'll come with you?"

"No. I sleep _alone._ " I hiss, wrenching my wrist from his and walking away, my chin in the air. I may be the youngest one on this deranged ship, but I'm no pushover.

Stepping up the stairways, sparing no glance for the crowd below me, I exit the sweat pit, wiping my forehead. My real shift isn't for another three hours, but foreman Duke isn't going to take my selfless service into account. I'd be back down there before I knew it.

I pause in the main hallway. Carter's whistling can be heard ahead of me, along with the rattling of his small, metal cart. The dim lighting flickers, and I lean up against the wall.

I can't go and take a nap. Terra and Reacher are probably still occupying the fort.

I can't go and eat. Fredrick would be there any minute now.

 _What else is there to do?_

I sigh, rubbing my face, smearing charcoal grease on my cheeks.

One more week. One more week. One more-

 _The Protoss ship._

I push off the wall, running for the starboard side. The others begin to have the same idea. A stream of people is beginning to trickle from the engine room, heading in the same general direction. Others are opening their doors, peeking their grimy, gritty faces out into the light.

 _Protoss. Protoss. Protoss._

 _New. Not boring. Exciting._

I shove my way towards a starboard window, pressing my hands to the glass pane. A wave of bodies tries to push me away, but I stand firm.

I'd only heard of the golden guardians. The seclusive, incredible rare alien race. Hierarch Artanis had led them in the rebuilding of their home world, their colonies, their race. He'd worked with Emperor Valerian. Together, our two races had become close allies.

Until Valerian died. And Artanis passed his figurative crown to his successor.

Things became frigid almost instantly. We weren't enemies, but we didn't quite connect in the way we used to. Artanissa, named after the incredible Protoss leader, saw to that. She wanted us to make our way in the world alone, without having to depend on a foreign arm.

I snap at a man who is pulling at my own arm, trying to pull me away from _my_ window.

I turn back, staring at the stars. Waiting. Watching in breathless apprehension.

 _There it is._

A faint wisp distorting the star's immaculate formations.

A rift in time, ready to open and expel forth a ship.

"Everyone, calm down!" I hear captain LaCross shout. "They aren't here to attack us!"

I glance back, confused.

 _Attack?_

"Are you sure?!" Someone screams.

"There's no need to panic." The captain repeats.

 _The Protoss don't attack. We'll be fine._ I reassure in my mind. The wrinkle widens, the stars spinning out of control. Several people begin to back away, frightened. It was all moving so fast, my heart began to beat wildly.

The black rip snuffs out the stars all together.

"They're traveling with us for the last week!" LaCross elaborates, and I feel my head spin in time with my heart. "I just got the message from New Haven! They're scoping out Kerralim for a co-colony planet!"

The crowd explodes.

"No! I wanted to get away from the aliens! Now we're going to be occupying the _same planet_?!"

"I wanted to raise my children free from those creatures!"

"You liar! Your posters lied!"

I gasp.

Something's happening.

Not here. Out there.

A thick, bulky nose is peeking out of the rift. Blue sparks begin to fly, streamlined and incredibly beautiful. The nose pushes forward, gathering a white gold sheen that flashes brilliantly in the light of the stars.

The crowd grows silent.

The Protoss ship silently and magnificently inches out of the rip in time and space, it's golden sides decorating the otherwise bleak sky. Blue banners etch it's sleek form, decorative and unifying the rest of the blue streaks within its structure. Several people gasp as a few sparking and morphing blue birds burst forth beside the larger ship. It takes a moment for the name to click in my mind. _Phoenixes._

They are beautiful. The larger one...is _magnificent_.

As its end finishes exiting the rift, the stars shuffle back into place, following the wrinkles and folds of the rip being sewn back together. The slim, golden ships dance, leaving banners and connecting the stars, drawing shapes around it's companion.

It is incredible.

So many people mutter, fearful and accusatory.

The Protoss vessels swim through space as gracefully as birds over the ocean, shaming the bulky, Terran vehicle that putters across leagues on patched wings and broken engines.

I felt vaguely jealous.

 _Why can't I be on something like that?!_

"Okay, everyone, go back to work. We need to keep on schedule, or we'll be left behind. Come on, move it!"

The mass of colonists leak back to their rooms, the engine room, the cafeteria, the cockpit. It is a wonder the ship kept working when nearly all of the crew abandoned their posts.

With nothing better to do, I stand and watch as the incredible, beautiful, fantastic ship comes and floats next to ours, flaunting it's streamlined curves and orbiting pieces, fine tuned for the fastest, sleekest space travel. No doubt embarrassed to be seen next to Terran trash.

But staying nearby nonetheless.

I see movement.

As the ship hovers ever closer, I see bodies.

I'm surprised to see that most of the ship's exterior is glass. Or something similar to glass. It shimmers like no glass I've seen before, but that hardly matters now. There are actual, real live _Protoss_ walking about the walkways encased in glass.

I see them. In all my life of bedtime stories and running with golden shadows, I never thought I'd see them.

Their deep, dusky skins. Their frames, tall as life. Their animalistic back limbs, large, padded, thick-toed feet. Their clawed hands, built for sophistication and technology beyond our reach. Traces of gold and cloth draped about their forms, their blazing blue and green eyes pinpricks of light in their deep set eye sockets. Much like the stars that twinkle.

Something else catches my attention.

Whispering.

Light, high pitched, child-like.

I glance around, trying to find the source of speech.

 _Look! A Terran vessel! Look at that! Wait, Zaxchia, look! Three windows from the right!_

I whirl, looking for the child who spoke.

There are no children on this ship, unless someone had snuck them on board. I wouldn't put it past some of the women-

 _Hey! No, don't leave! Over here!_

 _Ha, you know they can't hear us._

 _Maybe. Hey! Hey Terran!_

I look back at the ship.

I see a flurry of movement.

There. Near the bottom of the ship.

A smaller, darker Protoss is waving wildly. Another one stands nearby, arms folded.

 _Stop that. It can't hear us._

The one waving stops, turning towards it's counterpart.

 _Then why are you projecting your voice too?_

The second one reels back, waves of embarrassment flowing off of—her.

 _Eh—because..._

 _Ha! You want to try too!_

 _Be quiet!_

The first one turns back to me. The beautiful ship has drifted slightly above ours, and our windows draw level, just far enough apart that I can see the two easily, but far enough away that I can't spot any defining features.

He waves again.

I wave back.

 _HEY!_ _ _Zaxchia_! ___ZAXCHIA_ IT WAVED!_

 _Of course it did. That's what Terran's do. See?_

The second one waves nonchalantly.

I glare at her.

She turns to face me, waving violently.

I fold my arms, shaking my head.

 _You made it mad._

 _Be quiet! It's just too dumb to understand what I'm doing._

 _Hey, can you hear us?!_ The first one asks. Now that they are closer, I could see his brow crunched in concentration as he speaks. An echo lingers after his words, and I relish the difference.

I nod, pointing to my ear and giving a thumbs up.

The two small Protoss lean against their glass.

 _Unbelievable! It's lying!_

 _No it's not! Quick, turn around quickly!_

I comply, turning in a quick circle and smiling broadly.

The first Protoss is dancing around, pumping his arms. I watch his large feet thud against the golden walkway, his slimmer counterpart staring in bewilderment, a piece of the ship drift lazily in our way.

 _Wow! A Terran who can hear us-_

 _Kaldarax, behave yourself!_

 _Why? This is incredible! This is a breakthrough! This is inc-_

He stops abruptly.

I press my palms against the glass, curious at the sudden silence. They turn. As do I.

A third Protoss is approaching, his musclebound shoulders towering over them, diminishing them. He stops serenely, folding his arms over his broad white and gold chest plate.

I frown.

They stand together, looking from one another, nodding and gesturing. And they aren't including me. I've heard of their mind speech, and it's selectivity. This infuriates me. I want to hear more of the new voices. I want to know what they're talking about.

The girl points at the boy, stomping her wide, padded foot. The boy reacts defensively, pointing out the window towards me. I step back as the larger Protoss looks down at me. His blue eyes, as turquoise as the sky I left behind, scrutinize me. I quell as a deep, mellow, smooth voice invades my mind.

 _You can hear us?_


	2. Chapter 2-Conversations

A HUGE THANK YOU TO 'Derpy Death' and 'The payday' for following this story! I dedicate this next chapter to them.

Also, I do not own Starcraft or any of its terms. Those rights belong solely to Blizzard. Any infringement on copyrights was and is not intended.

-Mozzy Moo

* * *

The lever is slick with sweat and steam, quivering under the pressure of the gears it is connected to. The leather of my work gloves ensures my fingers don't slip as I pull back on it, listening intently.

 _Kch. Hissss-_

I slam my foot into the pipe works nearby, and the stream of escaping air is cut off, rattled back into place. A turbine sputters to life, and I hear a few men whisper to each other nearby.

 _The Kick of Death._

With calves of steel from working the ground, and heavy, military grade leather boots...it isn't a surprise I'm a legend among these ramshackle pioneers. The several men who'd tried to slip past Freddie's hovering, and at times, smothering guard could attest to the strength and raw power behind my roundhouse.

 _Putter...put-put-put-put._

"Keep working, you hunk of junk. We've still got five days of travel left." I hiss at the machine, wiping my forehead. I pull the lever again, listening to the steaming air flow through the pipes.

"Cynthia! Your shift is over! Go and get Terra to replace you!"

"Sure thing, Duke!" I scream over the whistle of the engine. My turbine can survive for five minutes without me. It will have to deal with a stricter master soon, anyway. Tugging the grimy gloves from my fingers with the tips of my teeth, I march up the stairwell.

The chill of the main corridor is welcoming and refreshing after nearly four hours in the sweltering boiler room below. As I wearily _clang-clang-clang_ down the gangplanks, I hear a hauntingly familiar squeak of rusting wheels. I pull my gloves back on.

Carter shuffles up and nods at me, his cart, thank the Gods, empty.

"Tough work, eh?"

"You said it." I agree, rubbing the dark bangs from my eyes, removing my gloves once more. "I'm just glad it's over." Carter laughs, the deep booming echoing through the metal hallways and no doubt scaring more than a few people from their slumbers.

"More work soon. Plowing, farming, raising a family-"

"I'm already used to the first two. I'll be fine." I hastily interrupt, blushing furiously. Fredrick's toothy, perfect grin flashes in my foresight, and I shiver.

"Cold?" he asks, smiling.

"Yep." I sniff loudly, brushing the hair from my eyes. Carter hums quietly, his steady footsteps a counter-rhythm to my saunter. We walk in companionable silence for a few fleeting moments, and I give a derisive wave as I turn into the cafeteria. He nods in turn, disappearing into the corridor ahead. Once inside the room with the many tables, I stand in line, turn in my working timetable, and register for my meal.

 _Cold meat. Hot mashed plant life. A gelatin substance that passes for...gravy? Bottled water._

I sigh down at the tray in my hands. Stonily walk over to the nearest table. Sit down, opening my plastic silverware and digging into the mushy, green pile of paste. I don't look at the person next to me as I speak.

"Terra. You're up."

" _Wha-?!_ I was just down there!"

"Last night, yeah. But it's nearly night again."

" _It's always night out here._ " She complains, slamming the back of her opponent's palm to the table. The burly man howls, grabbing at the injury and cussing avidly. Terra shakes her head and gestures him away, her mouth loudly smacking her florid pink gum. It often surprises me the amount she had snuck onboard.

"Duke says." I mumble through the mashed...broccoli. "He needs you down there. Workin' turbine seven."

She moans, laying her forehead on the table and slumping.

"That's the worst one."

"I know. Which is why he needs you to work it."

"Why can't you?"

"I _have_ been. For the last _four hours._ " I gulp down the rest of the paste, cutting at my meat. _"_ Lazy swine."

"Uppity farmer."

" _Again!_ "

I glance up from my meat as Reacher slams himself into the seat across from Terra, holding open his hand to her. His knuckles are already bruised from multiple defeats.

"Ugh. You're trying _again_?" Terra whines, turning her cheek upwards. Her brilliant violet bangs cover her face, resulting in a near blindfold. It also often surprises me how she's able to distinguish Reacher's walk, talk, and personality between the rest of the bulky ex-Marines and ex-Marauders on this ship.

She's only told me he has a distinct swagger, chatter, and non-clone quirks. She could always tell.

"She's gotta go work." I remind her, ripping into the slab of dry, tough animal remains with my teeth when my knife refuses to work. "No more arm wrestling."

"I can beat him in a second." Terra sighs, leaning back up and rolling her shoulders.

"Yeah, and it's my shift too. It'll only take a second." Reacher reassures, his grin splitting his face as she twines her fingers around his palm. She tiredly glares up him, standing abruptly. His smile disappears as she leans forward, kissing his nose, simultaneously slamming his hand down onto the table. She leans back quickly, wiping her lips, disgusted.

"'kay. I'm off to work." She moans, pulling her cap from the table and screwing it onto her head. "Oh, and Reacher? Wash your face more often. Your nose tastes worse than raw Hydra."

I poke at my gelatinous gravy with my fork as they storm out together, screaming at each other like a pair of monkeys. Though they're both only in their late twenties, they banter like an old married couple after a lifetime of squabbling. Apparently, they'd only met three nights before the ship launched. They really can play the married couple routine with finesse.

I wish I could pull the same stunt with Fredrick. But...no, it isn't going to happen. _Ever._

I take a swig of metallic water.

 _I think I would be fine living alone for my entire life. Just the ground, the sun, the sky, the animals for company. Yeah. No kids. No husband. Just me and my friends. Screw what the poster said._

"Synthy-kins!"

 _I wonder what the punishment for murder is on Kerralim?_

"Look at you! Did you just get out of the engine room? You're sweating so much! Here, let me-"

"Back off, Fredrick." I growl, trying to keep my face passive as my partner sits next to me, his own tray clattering. He pulls his feet up, crouching on the bench next to me, examining me inquisitively.

"Are you sure you don't want a towel? A napkin? A rag?"

"I'm fine." I repeat, standing. He wobbles on the bench as I storm past, lips pursed. " I just finished eating, so I'm going."

"Oh, I'll come-"

" _No._ Stay here and eat. I'll see you later."

"Oh. Okay! See you, Synthy-kins!"

"It's Cynthia!" I snipe over my shoulder, no doubt piercing his oh so breakable soul. I'm tired of him. I'm tired of Reacher and Terra and their ridiculous antics. I'm tired of my grungy clothing and the lack of proper cleaning. I'm tired of these endless metal hallways and strange faces. I'm tired of the wait, the time, the space outside the windows.

I pass such windows and stop.

But I'd never be tired of _them_.

I lean against the port window, dreamily watching a Protoss Phoenix glide by, leaving gilded, light blue streamers in its wake. It lazily circles the main ship, disappearing behind its massive bulk before reappearing on the other side.

I could never, _ever_ get tired of them.

The gold of the ship flashes as it adjusts it's course in time with ours, gently gliding up and down to match our romping, clumsy pace. I'd learned from the captain that this particular model of Protoss Carrier was designed to transport colonists, and that it closely resembled it's sister model that fought in the Great War.

The mere thought of tiny, destructive robots expelling from the ship's sides, as dangerous as a swarm of wasps, is enough to make me shudder. They could rip through our thin barriers in no time, I'm sure.

And Protoss make no mistakes. They are perfect in every way. In thought, in form, in technology, in battle. As I had always been told, all Protoss are calm, cool, and collected.

With the exception of my secret friend.

 _Terran?_

I sigh out, gripping my damp shift for support. The trembling wisps of echoes dangling off of the child's question sustain my enlivened excitement.

I pace from window to window, looking for a small, flurried form.

I spot him, near the rearward side, again, near the bottom of the ship.

 _Terran? Are you here today?_

I also begin to wave frantically, and he catches sight of me, instantly jumping up and down, gold embellishments and fabrics swinging wildly. I want to tell him I'd never seen a Protoss behave so ridiculously. His friend never seems to be around to tell him any more. As far as I can tell, however, he can't hear me, no matter how hard I focus.

And I have no other experiences with Protoss to compare him to.

 _Terran! It is good to see you! Have you been working your ship?_

I nod, waving my left arm in our established affirmative signal. He pauses, no doubt procuring a list of frenzied and haphazard questions. Yes or no questions, of course. The first time we spoke—when I listened and he chattered-I did all I could to mime out what he tried to ask me, but any kind of complicated theorem of Terran policy was lost in my actions.

 _Is your food good today?_

I wave my right arm in a negative signal, shaking my head. He nods, scratching his cheek.

 _Is food_ usually _good?_

I feel like laughing. He'd been quizzing me on everything from my clothing to the number of toes on my feet in the two short days since our first _strange_ encounter. I wave my left arm. Bob my head. The small Protoss paces, his clawed hand to his narrow chin as he ponders what to ask me next. I watch his digitigrade legs move, lifting and dropping gracefully.

I wish I could talk back. I wish I could ask him about every little detail about his gleaming ship. _His_ people. _His_ food. The number of toes on _his_ feet. How did the Protoss begin? How did their technology work? How did-

 _Okay. So Terrans eat plants?_

Wave of my left arm.

 _And meat? Omnivores?_

I use my right hand to support my left arm.

 _Fascinating. And eating these things supports your bodily functions?_

I wave my left hand, nodding briskly. The Protoss halts in his pacing, drawing his hands together in thought.

 _Good good. My studies have been accurate so far. I'm so glad-_

 _ **Kaldarax.**_

I wince, backing away from the window in shock. The mental prod had been a full blown shout, unlike the sultry, calm voices I had become barely accustomed to. I watch as my small counterpart on the gleaming platform whirls abruptly, surprised.

 _He'_ s back.

* * *

 _TWO DAYS BEFORE_

 _You can hear us?_

I gulp audibly, the domineering Protoss glaring down at me, his azure eyes blazing and chest puffing out authoritatively. His armor catches the light of a star, dispelling it over his flexing muscles and powerful legs. Casting a cloak of authority over his stance and being. I can't help but bow my head. In respect or fear, I'm still debating. Mainly a mix of both.

 _Well?_ He questions again, his voice low and soothing.

I glance up, my own dark brown eyes wide. My single nod furls his brow, and he glances at the younger, smaller Protoss. The girl again points at the boy, folding her arms and turning away. The child casts his arms wide, pleading. With a nearly excited hop, he gestures to me again.

I stand in the silence of the metal halls around me. Waiting in breathless apprehension as the elder Protoss looks back at me. Back to the boy, who is bowing his head in respect. Back to me. Letting his eyes slide closed in pondering.

He turns, his long, lilac white coat swirling around him in a billowing flourish.

He says something reprimanding. That much is made obvious as the boy flinches and visibly droops. The girl, Zahk-shia, _smugly_ folds her arms, following after the older alien proudly, her chin high. The smooth, deep voice bubbles into my mind, overwhelming my ability to think.

 _It is apparent that you are a descendant of a Terran with some form of psionic ability. No need to be afraid. Our younglings will bother you no further. Do not let them contact you again. If they do-_

He turns back, blue eyes snapping.

 _ **-I will know.**_

With that final condemning note drifting on recurring waves into my mind, he pads away, his small, dark shadow keeping pace easily. The remaining Protoss looks back at me, his entire posture and mental state echoing disappointment and shame.

He slips back and away into the golden shell without a single, shivering tone.

And I am left alone.

* * *

 _PRESENT TIME_

I had thought that had been the end of it. I thought that first encounter, that first _taste_ of something different, had already passed by. Never to be experienced again.

I had reached a new level of ship-sickness and depression. Terra noticed and asked me about it, but I had refused to be responsive. In the three hours I worked down in the engine room, I had debated throwing myself into the grinding gears several times. Of course, after I had shoved Fredrick and his sing-song voice in first.

I was awful. I felt like the junk we expelled behind us every few hours. I was ready to quit only a week away from my goal.

Until I had been carrying another box of laundry for Carter down the same hallway.

And Kaldarax's shouts called me from my melancholy mood and state of mind.

He had assured me that the older Protoss had given him permission to speak once every day, as long as he kept it quick. At the time, I was too happy to listen to the slippery, echoing tones to really pay attention to the undertone of panic in his calls. Of guilty apprehension.

Now, faced by the full grown Zealot stalking down the hallways, his anger rolling off of his mind in flickering images and thoughts, I could recognize it in my memory.

 _ **Youngling! You were ordered not to communicate with that Terran!**_

Kaldarax ducks low, probably apologizing. The older Protoss hears none of it. He turns, seeking out my shadowy form among the window ports of our rusted bucket of a ship. I step forward, unable to let my friend suffer alone. The Zealot spots me immediately, pointing down at me authoritatively. Like a father to his child.

 _Terran! I told you not to communicate with this child!_

His tone mimics my father's as well.

So I do the first thing I usually do when I'm reprimanded.

I shrug, folding my arms, looking up coolly at the Protoss behind the shimmering glass.

He looks down at me with the same level of frostiness, finger drooping as he comprehends my inability to cower. He straightens, extending his height as far above me as he can. I have to quell the childish urge to stand on my toes. Their ship still hovers above ours. It would make no difference.

 _I cannot stop you, but this young one has studies he needs to focus on. He shouldn't waste time in frivolous conversation._

Kaldarax shakes his head, gesturing between our ships energetically. The Zealot gives a sharp turn of his head, mentally silencing the boy. I again wish I can hear what they are saying. Even if most of it is Mr. Stuffy lecturing his subordinate.

I flip the hair out of my eyes, and both of the Protoss look at me. Look back at and gesture to each other. It looks like they're arguing, and the elder is winning. I again stand in silence. The metal works rumble around me, and the dim lighting of the hallway flickers. The stars shine cold and silent, glorifying the Carrier and shaming the Convoy.

A clatter of wheels.

"Cynthia?" Carter calls, curious.

I forcibly relax my shoulders, glaring at him.

" _What?_ "

The elderly man tilts his chin at my sharp tone, reaching up to stroke his greasy gray beard.

"What is troubling you?"

"That... _Protoss._ " I hiss, gesturing out the window. He pushes his cart up and stands next to me, stooping at my shoulder level. He scans the golden ship with weak eyes, squinting.

"Which Protoss?"

" _That one_. The one yelling at the youngling." I point, trying to direct his vision to the right piece of the ship. The Zealot is still towering over Kaldarax, who is rubbing his arm in shame. He had lost. I want to scream at the offensive, older alien. I want to call out to my friend, to re establish the link he had risked to raise.

"I do not see who you are talking about, my dear."

I hiss and slam my fist against the wall as Kaldarax sulks away, looking back at my ship with longing. He isn't coming back. I can see it in his pace, his drooping claws, his drawn up brow. The older Protoss turns his glare back to me, stone cold and authoritive. Perfect in every way. It bothers me to no end.

"Never mind. Do you have any laundry?" I ask, and Carter puts a fresh box into my outstretched, bare hands. I growl my thanks, and the old man walks away, whistling calmly. Agitating my inner anger and kindling the flames of injustice in my chest.

I don't understand why I'm so upset. I'd only listened to the child for a few hours all together.

But those small chats had been the focal point of my day. The brightness in my otherwise bleak existence. I probably could have made it all the way to Kerralim if the gleaming gold ship hadn't appeared. If I didn't know something else incredible was out there.

Knowing Kaldarax is so close at hand, yet being unable to reach out to him hurt more than anything.

The Protoss begins to walk down the hallway adjacent to mine, and I follow him, ignoring the number on my box. He keeps his head forward, and I attempt to jab at his mind. He continues to glide forward, unencumbered by my paltry attempts.

Two more Protoss approach him, bowing. He nods his head in turn, and I mimic him, muttering under my breath.

"Hello, my crummy little people. Let me suck all the joy out of your lives."

The two Protoss begin nodding, handing the first a tablet of some kind. I look down at the box, glaring at it.

"Oh, the fun levels are too high? Let's drop them to zero, shall we?"

I watch him out of my peripherals, mimicking his actions with an over dramatic zealous, flicking my arm into the air and writing things into the pile of shirts and pants in my hands.

"No communication, check! No Terrans, check! You are all zombies? Double check!"

I nod my head and bow as the two Protoss do, holding the box above my head.

"Oh, great and mighty Captain Killjoy. Thank you for your ultimate wisdom!"

I raise my hand in time with his.

"Oh, it was no trouble, my subjects. We are all equal. I am simply above you..." I twirl on my toe, mimicking a flourish. "...in _every way!_ "

 _What are you doing?_

I stumble, my boot hooking into a dent in the flooring. I fall. The box of clothing spills everywhere, and I cuss beneath my breath, piling all of the previously folded cloth into its container. My knee throbs as I stand, and I glare at the Protoss standing on the golden platforms across the yards of empty space. He has his arms folded behind his back, his eyebrows tilted up in curiosity.

 _Were you mocking me?_

I clench my fists, flushing. My nose wrinkles in distaste, and I compile all of my embarrassment, my shame, my wounded pride, my anger, my disgust, my pain, and my growing sense of jealousy into a single thought. Directed right between his eyes, into the blue, twinkling jewel on his forehead.

 _NO._

His eyebrows raise fractionally, and I smile in triumph.

 _Ah. You can speak back. I was beginning to wonder why you were keeping quiet._ His mellow voice hints at humor and practically drips with superiority. I feet the basket quiver in my hands.

I hate him. I hate his voice. I hate his people.

Except for Kaldarax.

 _I..._

I bite my lip, concentrating. A bead of sweat slides down the side of my face.

 _I can't...believe...we have...to share...a planet._

The Protoss shakes his head, taking a pace forward, domineering and superior.

 _I share your belief. But my Heirarch believes it will bring our races close again. It's hard to imagine how our separating boundaries can be brought together over a single colonial settlement, but no matter. I intend to serve my people to the best of my abilities. Even if it means keeping them away from those who might_ endanger _them._

The Protoss begins to walk away, and I follow behind, gathering that dwindling supply of energy.

 _I...want...to talk to...Kal-_

 _Absolutely not._ His mellow voice gains a sharp edge. _I did not lie when I told you he has studies. He does not have time for distractions. If he wishes to ignite his psi-blade, he must finish his research. It is his duty, and his dream. For the good of our people._

I want to tell him it isn't fair. That he's just an overwhelmingly grumpy, narcissistic, stuck up twig.

I don't have the time.

 _You are about to run into a wall._

I stop just in time. I growl at the offensive paneling, pressing my face to the window nearby, watching his back receding towards the front of his ship.

 _I hope you have a nice rest of the day. Please, do not attempt to contact me or the youngling again. For both our safety and yours._

 _Why...would...I want...to talk...to you?_

I press my cheek against the window as he pauses.

Looks down over his shoulder at me. His voice curls into my mind, nearly full of laughter.

 _Why wouldn't you? A Terran who wants so much more? You are part of a very intuitive species. You'd eventually want to find a way._

He walks away without another echoing word. Lilting or not.

I throw the box down, shouting at the silent metal walls.

* * *

 _*Kaldarax walks into his room, sulking*_

 _Zaxchia: You went to talk to your Terran pet again, didn't you?_

 _Kaldarax: Stupid Executor..._

 _Zaxchia: I toooold you sooooo~_

 _Kaldarax: SHUT UP_


	3. Chapter 3-Life

_Another quick thank you: to 'NLia' for being this story's next follower! Much appreciation!_

 _This is a new hobby for me, and I'm glad people like you all like my work! *bows*_

 _Thank you again!_

 _-Mozzy Moo_

* * *

 _It has been nearly two centuries since Emperor Valerian came to power. Within his sudden death, his grand-daughter, Artanissa Mengsk, took the throne, leading the United Terran Dominion into a continued era of peace. Colonist envoys like mine were deported from major hubs of activity, in hopes of expanding our grip on the galaxies._

"How do you spell 'Ar-tan-iss-uh' again?"

"A-r-t-a-n-i-s-s-a."

"Thanks, love."

"Don't say that."

 _This letter is to inform those who find it that we are now two days away from-  
_

"What kind of house do you want, Synthy-kins?"

"Any kind of house where you don't live with me."

 _-from our new settlement on the verdant planet of Kerralim, occupied for only 30 yea-_

"Why do you have to be like that?"

"Like what?"

"You're so mean."

"Shut up, I'm trying to write this out."

- _30 years by the Dominion. If found, it means that we did not make it. We were brave-_

"Synthy-kins? We're two days away, and you still haven't kissed me."

"Why would I want to kiss you?"

"We're married."

"No, Fredrick. We're _not._ "

I hiss, rubbing my forehead as Fredrick looks over the top railing of the bed. I try to smack him over the head with my comtab, but he only leans back, the glass tablet just whisking his long, fawn brown hair. He folds his arms across the railing, placing his chin on top of them, grinning fondly.

"I love it when you're feisty."

I glare at him, a red flush creeping up my neck. I wish I hadn't noticed him. I wish I hadn't seen him and his mopey brown coat, standing there and looking up at the colonist ship. I wish I hadn't offered him my 'hand' in order to get us on board.

I don't need any of this. I have other things to focus on.

Like this stupid, damn long letter.

Ignoring his puckered lips and sucking noises, I brush the tip of the pen over the glass, writing out my personal vendettas.

 _We were brave-_ _At this point, if you find our bodies, it was the Protoss. Totally the Protoss. Declare war on them or whatever, I'm tired of their uppity snipes and ships._

"Synthy-"

I succeed in smacking Fredrick this time. He cries out, disappearing onto his bed below me. Reacher snorts, dead asleep on his pad, which mirrors Fredrick's. Terra cracks open an eye across from me, growling.

"Listen, some of us are trying to _sleep_ here _._ "

"Sorry." I hiss back, still fuming. Clicking a few of the glowing white buttons, I save the unusual letter to the comtab's hard drive. Let the renegade find this. Let him seek out self-justified revenge. I could care less.

As long as Kaldarax was fine.

Tucking the glass slab into a shelf on the wall, I lay back and flick off the lamp beside my head. The room is plunged into darkness, and I listen to the sounds around me. Reacher snoring. Terra muttering about 'stupid kids'.

Fredrick, Freddie, that man below me, softly calling my name.

I'm so ready to get to Kerralim. To feel the lush grass. To soak in the sunlight. To sit beneath the full moon in a field, just like I did at home.

I take a deep breath.

 _Except Mum and Pops won't be there. That's the only drawback. To every silver lining, there's a dark cloud. Just like what Mum said. She was always a glass-half-empty kind of person. Dad countered that really well._

My eyes start to droop. Freddie grows silent, his calls replaced by light breathing.

 _Why is life so hard? Why can't I just get to Kerralim now? Why do I have to wait for so long? Why do_ we _have to wait for so long? And why with them? Why with the Protoss? There are so many other colonist planets out there._

 _Why did I have to choose the one being settled by another race?_

My eyelids slide closed, and I pull the blanket up over my chest.

 _Why aren't they here with me?_

"You're so impatient, bumpkin!"

"But I wanna go outside!"

"Let me finish putting your boots on—there, now we can-"

"Ryker, make sure she has an umbrella. It looks like it's going to rain."

 _Mm. When's the last time I felt a good rainstorm? What happened to the days where I sat outside on a fir bough? Listening to the storm raging around me?_

Fluttering heart. Light laughter. Pops...Daddy, running at me, a grotesque mask replacing his usually kind face.

"ARGH! I'm a _zergling!_ I eat little girls!"

"Ah! Daddy! Stop!"

Mommy jumping in the way, broom in hand. Brandishing it like a sword.

"Leave the child alone, you beast!"

"Oh no! A Protoss warrior! Look out!"

Laughter. Daddy pulling us all into a hug. The zergling head on the floor, separated from any kind of body, Terran or not. The Protoss warrior kissing him, stroking my hair. Her bright smile, her billowing raven hair, so much like mine.

As far as I can tell, there's no one like her on this ship.

Except maybe Terra. But she's more like my older sister.

I slip deeper into the memory, feeling my father's strong arm, bulging and streaked with dirt from a day among the flowers, around me, protecting me. His toothy smile is bright and cheerful as he listens to my questions.

"Daddy? Where are the Protoss now?"

"Well, bumpkin, they're building up their planet again. Auir."

"Aye-err?" The word tastes new on my tongue. I like it. The heroes of my childhood, and their mythical planet somewhere across the galaxy. It all sounds very fun. I feel my small, toddler toes curl in excitement.

I remember running outside. Out among the tall, leafy corn heads, looking for the Golden Guardians. The gray skinned, tall as buildings men with glowing blades. Ready to protect me from the monstrous Zerg.

Not liking where this is going, I shift to another time.

Another day in the cabin.

I'd wanted to show Daddy the bug I had caught among the newly created blue raspberries.

He looks so worried. The television flickers above the sink, where Mommy is washing dishes quickly, with a hard driven mouth. Her hair is drooping, streaked with gray, slowly loosing its lustrous curl.

"Daddy? What's wrong?"

"Artanis stepped down."

"Ar-tan-iss?"

"The leader of the Protoss, bumpkin."

"Is he dead?"

"No. Just...older, I guess. Looks like he just wanted to take a vacation. Nothing to worry about."

"Who's gonna be in charge of them then?"

"Heirarch Dassalar. Nobody can find Artanis, so he was elected instead."

I feel my chest swell. The hero king Daddy talked so much about...gone?

No. _No more Protoss. Find something else!_

"WHY CAN'T I GO OUT?!"

 _Oh no. No, not this one again._

"Sweetheart, please, don't argue-"

"I'm _17_ now! I can go out with friends!"

"Those _friends_ stole Mr. Carrol's Vulture bike and _killed_ livestock!"

"Those Karak were old anyway! We were just-"

 _No. Forget this one, take me back-_

"I _hate_ you guys! _I WISH I WERE BORN TO SOMEONE ELSE!_ "

"Cynthia!"

"Bumpkin..."

I had slammed Daddy in the back of his head with his own gun. I took it off the wall and hit him with it. Ignored my mother screaming. I ran outside, and I didn't come back for nearly a week.

I was so afraid.

So alone.

 _KEH-KEH-KEH-KEH-KEH-_

I wake up.

An alarm is blaring on the other side of the room. Reacher moans, lifting his hand and dropping it on the floor, blindly groping for his comtab, which is flashing beneath his bed. Fredrick whines like a dog, flipping over and pressing his pillow to his ear.

 _KEH-KEH-KEH-KEH-KEH-_

"Reach! Shut that _thing_ up!" Terra screams, kicking at the ceiling.

"Ugh...I...can't find it?"

I flip onto my side, my forehead damp with sweat. My heart is kicking against my ribs, the recurring waves of memory heightening my adrenaline. I lift my head and flip my pillow, it's cool surface a calm reassurance.

"Reacher, I _swear-_ "

"I'm sorry, Ter-bear, I just can't-"

"Did you just call her _Ter-bear?!_ "

"Fredrick, shut it!"

"Yes ma'am."

 _KEH-KEH-KEH-KEH-KEH-_

I press my palm to my ear.

My heart shudders, and I whisper quietly.

 _It's okay. You've already apologized. Worked it off. Mum and Pops still love you. You're fine. It's okay. You've already apologized. It's okay. They still love you. They still love you. They still love me. It's okay. I'm okay-_

I hear someone retching.

 _Okay. Not so okay._

"Ew, Terra!"

"Shut...up...Freddie..."

"Terra?!" I hear Reacher bounce up, flicking off his alarm and dancing around the puddle of puke.

"I'm fine...ugh...I knew the meat tasted off. Several others have been getting sick lately. I'm not the only one..."

"I'm taking you to the medibay."

"No need. I'm already feelin-HEY! Get your hands off of me!"

The smell lines my nostrils, threatening to overload my senses, and I sit up, pinching the bridge of my nose. Reacher is holding a weak-looking Terra in a vice-like hug, tilting his head to avoid her elbow. Terra looks up at me, deathly pale and looking nauseous. Her violet bangs droop over her eye, and I feel another swell of sympathy.

"Ge' be'er soon, 'kay?" I wheeze, lips curling in a smirk. She snarls at me, hissing at Reacher like a stray cat. As they exit the room, I hear her hurl once more right outside the door. Reacher hushes her, then continues on his way.

Unable to bear the vile smell, or the sound of Fredrick's voice, I snatch up my comtab and leap from the bed, nearly stepping in the growing puddle of questionable liquid. He watches me with his soft, hazel eyes, tucked near the wall and wrapped like a mummy in his pile of blankets.

"No, don't go..."

"See ya'." I interrupt, slamming the door shut on his complaints. I know he'll be coming out sooner or later, so I take the hallway away from Terra's stomach's contents, towards the starboard side of the convoy.

I see flickers of gold, and pointedly ignore them.

Once I reach a place I feel is comfortable, I slide down against the wall. The comtab flickers to life, and I stare at the Dominion symbol for a moment. A protective shield. Two arms crossing in alliance. Decorative stars littering the rest.

The symbol disappears, leaving me staring at a blank screen.

I have no idea what I was planning on doing. The memories are still filling my mind to the brim, and I need something to flush them out. _But with what?!_

I sigh, letting my head hit the wall. I stare out at the stars. Those glorious, distantly cold stars. I would love to touch one. To wrap a chain of them around my wrist like a gossamer string of tiny pearls. I wonder what it would be like, to be dressed in golden and pure white bangles, clothing, decorating my skin, my hair-

No. You're thinking of _them_ again.

The Phoenix glides by. It's pilot hidden from sight behind a pure blue shield. It's wings spin, leaving a cork-screw banner behind it. I glare at the window. It looks so effortless. To glide among the stars and-

 _Wait._

 _It is apparent that you are a descendant of a Terran with some form of psionic ability._

I open up the search engine. The Dominion logo flashes, along with a brief warning about hackers. I skip past the safety video, irked. _What did he mean by that?!_

 _FAMILY TREE SEARCH._

It's simple to enough, finding a website willing to find my ancestors. I type in my name, along with my parents'.

 _Cynthia Dominia Treemont._

 _Ryker Debraun Treemont._

 _Pepper Calypso de Lorent Treemont._

Search inconclusive.

 _No need to be afraid._

I hiss at the screen. I hiss at the lazy Phoenix. I hiss at the vent of slowly twining air beneath my boots. I hiss at the metal paneling behind my back. I hiss at the echo of Carter's wheels. I hiss at the shadows behind closed doors. I hiss at that bossy, no good _Protoss_ on board the golden ship.

All within one, frustrated hiss, of course.

And then I see my mistake.

 _Pepepr._

 _Pepper._

Search; 302 results.

I sigh gratefully.

"Good news from family?" Carter asks, his cart navigating around my toes. He's carrying a mop, no doubt going to clean out my room.

"No. Well, yeah, I mean-" I click on the tag labeled 'Military-related'. Flick to the nearest date.

Bingo. I had a grandfather who was a ghost in the Great War. Psionic levels incredibly high. Who would have guessed, my mother-

"It looks like you have solved great mystery." Carter remarks dryly, picking up a box of laundry. He waits for me to stand and tuck the comtab into the back of my pants.

"And you look like you enjoy taking advantage of my kindness." I reply in turn, hefting the box into my folded embrace.

Despite my snide remark, I feel like a balloon. Some kind of light headed, dizzy object that can walk on stars, that is. Figuring out puzzles happens to be one of my addictions. And I had solved the cryptic remark made by an equally cynical alien.

That's a double header.

"Room 328. Don't miss it." Carter reminds me, jovially pushing his lighter cart forward.

I had shown him. That stupid, heavy headed Protoss. Kaldarax would be so excited to have a partial Ghost for a friend. Being stuck with that other, bratty girl must be stressful. But _still_. I had figured out what that...that...guy had meant.

I can't help the grin. It's natural, fitting my lips like a sock on a foot.

Room 324...326...328.

"Here's your laundry!" I call through the door, knocking quietly. Just a part of the gear work that is my life. The wrench in the mechanics that had been present for the past few days lifts off of my shoulders, and my gears begin to turn once more.

 _Bumpkin, you really have a knack for solving problems._

 _She gets it from you, Ryker._

I bounce on my toes, going over the memories right after my worst nightmare.

Dad, with his head bandaged, tears in his eyes, his arms outstretched to me.

 _Oh, my little Cynthia. I forgive you. It's okay. You're okay._

 _Good night, love! Don't forget to make your bed tomorrow morning!_

 _Night, bumpkin!_

 _Night Mom. Night Dad. I love you both. So much._

Those had been the last words they said. And I had replied with. There were no hugs. No kisses. No goodbye's. No sweet memories to look back on. Just my coat, my bag of belongings, a few seeds, and the open road.

The city had been quiet. The ship, lit up like a beacon, ready to take off.

I had shown my face, bright eyed and hopeful. Ready to depart.

 _Nope. Where's your husband?_

 _H-husband?!_

 _Get out of line, kid. You need a partner._

' _Scuse us kid. Hi, Terra Stolckholm and Reacher Stolckholm._

I pause, more memories bubbling up to the surface. I see the dark pier, and a shadowy figure staring forlornly up at the ship.

 _Excuse me, sir?_

 _Hm?_

He had turned to me, hazel eyes sad and betrayed.

 _Do you...want to go? To Kerralim?_

 _Yeah. But I didn't know about the wife clause..._

 _Come with me. Let's go together. We can pretend for a little while._

He had been so willing to help me. And I was so willing to pretend.

 _I thought you didn't have a husband, kid._

 _This is-_

 _Fredrick._

 _Fredrick. M-my husband. Now, if you could-_

 _Prove it._

I'm jolted back into action by an opening door. A dark faced man peers out, surprised that I'm in his way. I continue forward, blushing. The golden ship winks down at me, Kerralim's dual suns highlighting its sleek edges and burnished blue streamers.

I remember Fredrick's smile. His bright, hazel eyes. His hopeful, longing expression.

As he leaned down and kissed me.

 _There. Proven. This is my wife, Cynthia. I didn't want to come before, but if she really wants to leave me so badly, I guess I could tag along. Might as well, right, Synthy-kins?_

The feeling of his lips is still imprinted in my memories.

It had been my first kiss, and I resent him for stealing it. I'd had too many visions of the perfect first time to count the one on the space docks. A perfectly good kiss, taken just to admit entrance onto a cruiser.

I lean against a window, boredly looking up at the golden Protoss ship.

I need something to flush away the memories, again.

 _I wonder what Kaldarax is up to? Or that Zaxchia girl. Or him-_

"Nope." I say to myself, turning and pressing my back to the glass. "Nope nope. Anything else?"

 _I wonder what happens up there. Do they drive it themselves? Does their warp-in technology make the trip any faster? Why are they cruising with us?_

I glance over my shoulder, brushing my long, black hair out of the way. A curling wisp skewers my eye, and I wince, rubbing out the offensive curl. Movement catches my eye.

A pair of Protoss are walking towards me, gesturing at each other in conversation.

 _It looks so effortless..._

The silence of the hallway is overbearing.

I turn to face them. And furiously focus.

I want to talk to them with a zealous passion like no other. I don't understand, but I _do_ want to speak to them. I was done with silence.

So I shout at them.

 _Can you hear me?_

They continue walking, uninterrupted. I bite my lip, pressing my fingers to my forehead in concentration. Upset and frustrated.

 _Can you hear me?!_

It doesn't work. They pass me by, walking towards the other end of the ship. My feet refuse to follow them. A tide of disappointment drowns out all feelings of success that had been bubbling up since I figured out where my powers had come from. _Ghost Operative: Micheal Straton._

I droop against the window, sighing.

 _Please...listen._

They hesitate. And glance around. I let my eyes drift closed, letting the disappointment subside into calmness.

 _Please...I want to talk to you..._

They're confused now. I put my cheek in the palm of my hand. I relax farther, closing my eyes. A strange tingling at the back of my head increases as I focus on my words, crafting every curve and point of every letter in my mind.

 _How many toes do you have?_

They look down at their feet, then back up, whirling around, trying to pinpoint my voice. I keep quiet, curious. They dash off, and I let my eyes flicker open. They're gone.

The success is back.

I stand abruptly, letting my boots tramp up and down the walkway with a quick fist pump. I act just like Kaldarax. Giddy, I try to reach out to another Protoss, but the tingling feeling is gone. I don't care. I'm walking on air.

 _I'll figure it out later._

I nearly skip down towards my room, my hands in my pockets. I feel something strange at the small of my back, and I reach around, grabbing up my comtab.

My finger presses the screen, opening up my mail.

The weekly death letter is at the top. Last week's is just below it. And below that, flashing _unsent._..

I open the letter, whipping out the pencil and quickly scribbling out a note.

 _Mom, Dad. I am so sorry for leaving you, but I felt it was time. I'm heading to a new planet that needs people like me. That needs people like you. Kerralim is full of opportunities for farmers, and possible botanists. I would have gotten nowhere with you guys as competition. I love love love love you both so much, and I'm sorry if I made you mad. And I'm sorry for not communicating with you for so long. I didn't know how to tell you. I hope you can forgive me. I'll be sending pictures. I promise._

 _-Bumpkin_

Without hesitation, I press _send._

There's a moment brimming with hesitation, and then a green, flashing, definitive symbol.

 _MESSAGE SENT._

I gasp. Nearly drop the tablet.

"What did I just do?!"

I look over the message. I didn't know people could have such conflicting emotions in a matter of minutes. Seconds.

Victory. Passion. Disappointment. Thrill. Sadness. Conviction. Fear.

I hear familiar shouting down the hall, near the medibay.

"Reacher! I told you, get off of me!"

"But Terr-bear, you haven't told me what's wrong with you..."

"Stomach bug! Bad food! Not enough sunlight! Your face! Now, let go of my arm!"

I smile, turning my comtab off. I glance out the window, at the sparkling ship. As calm as it is on the exterior, I know there are two Protoss on the interior just waiting to stir up some mayhem.

"I've caused enough trouble today, haven't I Dad?"

 _You sure have, you little rascal._

I tuck the comtab into the back of my pants again, sighing. I pull my features into a tight mask of disapproval, looking up at the struggling couple. I place my hands on my hips, tilting my head.

"Synth! Get this monster off of me!"

"She's not telling me the truth!"

"Of course I am, you dolt! You just want to kiss me again!"

 _Two days away. Just two more days._

The Phoenix glides by once more.

* * *

 _Protoss 1: I swear, Executor! It was a ghost! And it asked us how many toes we have!_

 _Protoss 2: We're all going to be haunted! What should we do?! OH BY THE GODS WE'RE ALL GOING TO DIE!  
_

 _*Executor bangs his head against the wall*_

 _Executor: THAT TERRAN! :(_


	4. Chapter 4-Kerralim, pt 1

Omigosh, I am so sorry for not updating for such a long time! In my defense, my family just went through a big move, and I haven't had much time or energy to write the next chapter of this (hopefully) epic saga. Much sorries. (bow)

A HUGE THANKS TO Kakaski, Mr. ASK, WhiteShadow97, Naguro, Typho, sliebum, and Hiphop4eva for being the next followers! And thanks to all the guests and friends who have reviewed this work-in-progresso. I hope I don't go this long without updating again. All comments have been taken into account, and I've gone back and tweaked previous chapters a bit to fix things up.

Disclaimer: I do not own StarCraft or any of its terms. Any and all rights belong to Blizzard Entertainment. Any infringment weren't and aren't intended :)

However, my OC's are still my OC's. Thank you.

-Mozzy Mooooooo

* * *

" _All passengers, please prepare for final hyper-jump_." Captain LaCross announces, the crackle of the speaker nearly as loud as his attempted call for order.

It doesn't take much effort to find my seat. I brush away a thin coating of dust from the plastic, seating myself and grabbing at the equally thin safety belt. The click of metal on metal and the jingling of loose harness does little to settle my raging stomach. I sigh, placing my hand on the stubbed arm rest and wincing as Freddie's fingers place themselves atop mine within the second.

"You ready?" He asks, grinning avidly, clumsily pulling his belt down. I roll my eyes pointedly, slowly and calmly adjusting the fabric straps across my abdomen and chest. I nod, faking a chill, aloof expression. Too bad my outsides don't reflect my insides. My roiling stomach and my earth shattering heartbeat, that is.

How can I _not_ be excited?! This is it. This is the last jump. The last bolt through space before reaching the edge of the small solar system. Before reaching _home._ To say I'm ready would be...mediocre. I'm prepared, ecstatic, _totally_ ready. An elbow jabs my shoulder.

"God, Reacher! Stop touching me!"

"How are you feeling?"

"I feel like I want to tear your esophagus out of your throat _and shove it up your as-"_

"Eh, Terra. Think of the kids."

I roll my eyes again. This is getting old. I'm getting old. _Why aren't we getting it over with?_

" _Two minutes, and counting. Please navigate to your stations and seating_."

"So. This is it. You ready to go home, Synthy-kins?" Freddie's long fingers curl over mine, and I jerk my arm away.

"Knock it off, Fredrick." I whisper absentmindedly, too distracted to really care anymore. I look over at Terra, who has her head against the back headrest of her seat. Her eyes are loosely shut, her nostrils flaring. Now I can see why Reacher asked about her health. She looks...sick.

"Are you okay?" I ask quietly, and her stormy blue eyes open, watering.

"Yep." She huffs, leaning forward against her straps. "Totally fine. Just feeling...a little ditzy." As an afterthought, she removes her orange cap and wipes her forehead.

I can see Reacher behind her tuft of dark hair now. He stares at me, worry prickling his brown irises. I hate it when he looks at me like that. I know he wants me to do something about it. Ask her what I can do. Ask her if she needs anything. She wouldn't take anything from him. She wouldn't bow herself so low.

"Do you need some water?"

"No. I'm good. Just give me a second." she sniffs heartily, pulling her hat back on with a sense of finality, leaning back and folding her arms, letting her violet bangs hang over her eye like a bright, dismal shroud.

" _One minute, and counting. Please fasten all safety belts. Hyper-jump crew, please report to your stations_." The metallic, and at times, robotic voice of Captain Lacross is irritating. Especially when it echoes through the halls. _Ugh, I hate it so much._

"There. All better." Terra sighs, rolling her shoulders. I face forward, satisfied by her weak reply, and examining the person in front of me. It's Collin. His long, bony face is tired but hopeful, his grimy, blackened hand grasping his wife's, who sits next to him vigilantly. Their thin, platinum wedding bands gleam brightly in the dim light.

I have to admire them for their courage.

" _Twenty seconds, and counting. All crew_ must _be at their posts_."

They'd left behind two children to come here. I'd heard their plan was to leave them with a friend until they had enough credits to send for a cruiser. A risky move. No doubt, it took a lot of time and energy to make a decision like that.

"So, Cynthia, I was wondering, do you want a home in the city or out in the countryside? I mean, you haven't really told me very much...well, _anything_ about yourself, and I want to make sure-"

"Fredrick?"

He hesitates in replying.

"...yeah?"

" _Ten seconds, and counting_."

"I don't care where you want to live. I don't really care if you want to live in the city. I already have a plot of land waiting for me, and it really is only big enough for _one_."

Lies, of course. All of the land was sectioned off for bigger, growing families. But I can't tell him that.

"Oh. I see. So...I could live in the city, and I'll come and visit you?"

"Sure."

"But...what about-"

There's a loud 'BEEP' and the sound of the Captain's single syllabic call.

" _Mark_."

Freddie's words are lost in the leap. In the jump between stars. In the breathless warp between time and reality. The pressing cold, stretching thoughts, oppressive silence and pressure. I gasp out, my breath reverberating and fractalizing.

Echoing into the folds of space.

I close my eyes, unable to handle the shaking.

I hate the actual jump. It burns and freezes, it wavers and shimmers like a cloud of sunlight. It won't let me move, it won't let me think, it won't let me do _anything._ And I hate not being able to do anything. Except wait. And listen. And _fear._

 _Is this it? Will something go wrong?_

 _Will we crash? Not make the other side? What have I gotten myself into?! Why am I here?!_

And then, like a resounding wave against the shore and accompanied by a solid _pop_ , it all resets. My body is no longer stretched thin like a sheet, and my heart is in my chest and not in my throat. My fingers clasp Fredrick's, my knuckles skeleton white with stress. The ship shudders and tips, crew members struggling to keep the shuttle straight in its course. I feel as sick as Terra looks.

There's a dizzying sense of weightlessness as time rushes to catch up, to give us back our breath.

A hollow _'ping'_ sounds, and I slump heavily in my chair. It's over. That was the last time I'd ever do anything like that again. Fredrick pants next to me, shaking his head, trying to relieve the pressure.

Of course, he's the first one to speak.

"What a _rush_!"

A second ' _ping_ ' sounds, and our safety belts disengage, letting us loose. Terra lurches to her feet, looking green. She can't seem to run fast enough to the nearest disposal, just down the hall. The sounds of retching come loud and clear, and Reacher struggles to untangle himself from his restraints as I stand, stretching. My legs are trembling, but I hold firm, leaning down to touch my toes.

Collin and Rita are grinning at each other, silently celebrating the non-crash with a quick kiss.

"Never thought Terra could get queasy during a hyper jump. That meatloaf must've really done a number on her." Freddie comments, joining me in my post seating relaxation exercises. I scowl, turning slightly away from him. We both stretch our arms to the ceiling, arching our backs and sighing.

I can still feel the rough pads of his fingers on my knuckles, his fingers twined with mine.

" _Reacher! Knock. It. OFF_!"

"You need to go back to the Medibay, don't you? Come on, tell me what's going on."

"It's _nothing_! Stop worrying, I'm _fine_! I feel loads better now that the _bloody_ ship's stopped _shaking_. Let go of my arm before I kick your- _butt_!" The final correction to her word choice is made as I step up to them, quietly separating Reacher's fingers from her arm. She shudders at my touch, but allows me to drag her away.

Fredrick puts his hand to Reacher's chest, stopping the giant from following after us.

Y'know, there are times I hate Freddie. But I'm grateful he knows how to read most social cues. As long as they're not from me.

I take Terra down the hallway, past the many empty doors and rooms. The clanging metal grates squeak and clatter beneath our boots, and I frown as Terra begins to lean heavily on me, her footsteps dragging and breathing coming heavier.

"Do you need a break?"

"No. The room's just up ahead. I...can make it..."

We pass by a few windows, and I glance out. The stars look the same as always. I never realized how much I'd missed seeing their unbroken view, without any hulking, golden mass in the way. They really _did_ stretch on forever and ever. But there is something special about _these_ stars. They're _mine_.

These will be the stars I see every night before I lay down to sleep. These will be the stars I camp beneath, that I will stare at for hours on end without fear of clouds or rain. That I can dream about visiting. Forever.

Terra moans.

"Oh...oh no..."

I have her in the room just in time for another small period of her crouching over the trashcan. I stand to the side, trying not to provoke her. In a younger sister kind of way, I suppose.

"Holy Zerg, Terra. What _did you eat?_ "

My friend chuckles, wiping her mouth and grinning weakly.

"No idea, to be honest. Everyone else seems to have gotten over their problems. Guess I just have the weaker stomach. Who knew?" She sighs, propping her cheek against the rim of the bin, staring at the opposite wall. "At least it's over now. We're here."

I nod. I nod again. I glance out the door. No sign of the sphere is visible from my viewing angle, and I breath a puff of despondent air. I'd have to leave Terra in order to see it. I'm not willing to do _that_. She reads my thoughts as easily as a book, and she waves her hands, crumpling around the can like a lazy cat, hugging it close.

"Go ahead, Synth. No need to stick around. I just need a quick snooze."

I sit on Fredrick's bed, tucking my feet up on the sheets and leaning my back against the wall.

"It's okay. I can wait. I want to make sure you're okay first."

The ship creaks, and I sigh, placing my face between my knees, inhaling the aroma of two months worth of travel. Stink. Retching stink. Unwashed, unbathed stink. Mechanical, greasy stink. It's everywhere, and everything.

"Synth. Go on. Go see Kerralim. Come back and tell me about it." Terra prompts, shifting so that she's using her arm as a pillow, pulling the visor of her cap down over her face. She seems fine, but her tight grip on the metal canister still has me partially worried.

I want to go see it. I want to go see my home. My heart is already leaping out of my chest, begging me to leave the stuffy, stinking ship and leap into space. To fly down and be the first to see it. To touch it. To taste it. To smell it.

But I can't leave her. I can't leave Terra alone.

"So...what are your plans when you get there?" I ask, rocking from side to side, itching my back on the cool paneling behind me. The cracks and dents in the metal are soothing to rub my aching skin over. It provides some form of energy that I can channel all of my thoughts into. Terra chuckles.

"I don't know. Never really thought that much about it. I guess I'll start up a business somewhere in the city."

"What about Reacher?"

"That bag of meat? I could care less..." She coughs, readjusting her head. I grab Fredrick's pillow, tossing it onto her abdomen. She takes it gratefully, placing it under her cheek. "Hm. My favorite scent. Puppy chow."

We both laugh at our inside joke about Fredrick's behavior. And then we sit in silence. I shift on the bed, sending it creaking in jittery nervous movement. Terra readjusts her cap, her legs, her hold on the can. It's quiet inside our room. I try to ignore the excited chatter rippling through the hallways outside.

 _Did you see it? It looks just like New Haven._

 _That storm looked pretty bad though. Looks like they get a lot of rain._

 _The Protoss ship has drifted off. Guess they want nothing to do with us anymore. Good riddance._

"What about you, Synth? What are you going to do?"

I look at Terra. Her blue eye twinkles at me from the depth of her cap, her plump lips smirking widely.

"I'm going to farm. Become a botanist, I suppose." I shrug. "Guess I haven't thought about it either."

"And what about Freddy-kins?"

"That...kid? Like I care." I readjust myself on his bed, laying on my back, staring up at the metal slats that create the underside of my bed. _Is this what he sees at night?_

"Well, you better figure things out soon. Don't expect me to come and save your ass during the winter. You might need him to help you out, you know."

I bite my lip, giving a quiet breathy laugh.

"Does Reacher know you use that kind of language around _children_?"

Terra scowls, rubbing her nose.

"He can go screw himself for all I care. I know you have quite an interesting vocabulary yourself."

I laugh loudly this time.

"True enough." The next stretch of silence is companionable. Her toe tapping against Reacher's bedpost, my fingers drumming against the bedspreads. I sit up, arching my back again and popping a few fingers. I slouch, trying to find anything to say. "Feeling any better?" Terra sighs, sitting up in turn.

"Yeah. Loads. But, I really think I'm going to take a nap. I'll just check out the planet when we actually land." she sits up, scooting across the floor. She heavily hoists herself onto Reacher's bed, and, to my surprise, stays there. And puts his blankets over herself. "Don't wake me up."

I watch her in silence, surmising the situation. Her breathing soon becomes even and deep, signalling her true slumber. My eyes flicker to the crack in the door. Back to my friend.

 _She can handle herself._

I dash from the room, as quietly as possible, and bolt down the hallway.

 _Stars. Stars. More stars. The sun. Where is it?!_

I veer to the left, dodging past Carter. I don't know how I missed him, but I don't have time to stop. And he doesn't flag me down. He understands my rush and lack of helpfulness. All too soon, I see a crowd of people, and my heart drags.

I'm too late. They're impassible. The horde of colonists have already flocked to the window, admiring the beautiful, infuriatingly close view. All port windows are full. I backtrack, entering the main hallway and trying another left branch. All full. All gone. No room left.

I want to scream. I'm _this_ close.

"Synth! Cynthia!" The voice is familiar and warm, and I breath heavily. Not now. My partner bounces to my side, hazel eyes aglow. "Have you seen it? Isn't it beautiful?"

"No. No, Fredrick. I...haven't seen it yet. All the windows are blocked." I shrug, faking indifference. "I'll just see it later. It's okay. I can wait."

 _NO. No, I can't wait! Why did Terra have to be sick?! Why did I have to be so...friendly?!_

"Have you tried the bridge?"

I do a double take, looking up at him. His face is serious, asking an honest question.

"Th...the _bridge?_ "

"Yeah. The Captain's bound to have a good view."

"But...it's the _bridge_. We aren't supposed to...y'know, go up there." Freddie looks puzzled, frowning slightly, his child like eyes confused.

"When was that rule established? I go up there all the time. I have a few friends who work the nav system. There's nothing stopping you, or me, from going there right now."

I. Cannot. Believe it.

"Come on, I'll take you if you're that nervous. It's nothing special. Just a bunch of buttons and flickering lights in a big room. Nothing to be scared of." His hand tries to grab mine, but I'm too furious to let him. I...hate it when he knows things I don't.

"Just...lead the way."

He looks at his drooping fingers, nodding.

"O-okay. This way."

I follow him in frosty silence, tracing our path with the steam pipes. We head to the main hallway again, and I feel like griping. _Why the wait? Why the hesitation in telling me about this? Why, Fredrick?_

"Here. Up these steps." he steps to the side, gesturing me up.

"I know." I snap, gripping the rail and stomping up the steps. The door to the bridge opens at a punch of my fist,and I storm in, full of angry confidence.

" _We shall be stationed at the Northern point of the planet, at coordinates 30.223-_ "

The silence is quick and smothering. Like a thick, heavy glass box separating me from them. Them being the entire crew of our shuddering shuttle.

Captain Lacross is staring at me, surprised and angry. His crew members are arrayed around the communications monitor. Which is open. And transmitting a heart stopping, gut wrenching, deeply echoing, terribly familiar voice. It's nice to finally see, in detail, who's made me so angry these last few days.

His thin, slate blue face is slightly wrinkled, but I can't tell if that's from age or from his flustered, confused expression. His sparking blue eyes blaze at me, his heavy brows lowered. The gleaming gold headpiece he wears curves sleekly into his shallow cheekbones, adorning his head crest with white and shining blue. Several braided chords hang to one side of his face, held together by a single, golden hoop with a diamond embellishment.

" _Excuse me_." LaCross states angrily, turning back to the Protoss. "I am so sorry for the interruption. What are _you-"_ he turns to me, snapping his fingers. Two crew members stand, ready to escort me away. I flounder, checking over my shoulder. Freddie is hesitant on entering the stairwell, it seems. He's no where in sight. "- _doing here?_ "

"I...I was just..." I glance from face to face, looking for assistance. They all glare back, except for him. The Protoss. He just looks...amused. And it pisses me off. "I was just looking for somewhere to see the planet. Every other window is blocked right now."

I was being honest, but the Captain didn't seem to buy my argument.

"Shirley, Brixton, escort this young lady _out. NOW._ " Two pairs of rough hands grip both of my arms, dragging me backwards, away from the very close window.

"W-wait! I -I didn't mean to-"

" _Please, wait, Captain._ "

Everyone hesitates. And turns.

The Protoss is staring at me now. I can tell that he's trying to keep his voice level, unamused. His clawed hand raises in a peaceful gesture, his four fingers long and clawed. Maybe not as peaceful as he had planned.

" _I see no reason to escort her out. The information we are discussing is relevant to all on this ship. Who am I to deny a simple wish? I do not mind if she is present during this meeting._ "

Captain LaCross sputters, his mustache practically bristling. The hands around my upper arms loosen, and I rub my skin, trying to erase the angry red marks. The guards step back respectfully, acknowledging the overwhelming authority those few sentences carried.

I can now see it was the expression. With his eyebrows and cheeks completely slack, I'm surprised to see that he looks much younger, barely any wrinkles marring his forehead and smooth...facial area.

"Ah. I...if you see no need for it, I suppose she may...stay."

I have to stare straight ahead, trying my best to make sure I don't acknowledge that he's just _saved_ me. My skin prickles as I nod at him, not really looking at him. I stiffly walk to the window, feeling my spine crawl at the dozen or so pairs of eyes burrow into the back of my head.

It takes a moment for the view to click.

 _Oh. They were right. It does look like New Haven._

White clouds swirl over a verdant, forested land mass, surrounded by a deep, sparkling blue. An ocean. Two, to the East and the West. I can see a large gathering of cloud cover near the Southern end of the planet, and I can't hold in my gasp. Snow. I could see snow.

" _As I was saying, we will establish our colony approximately twelve clicks, by your measurement, North of your city of Kerralim. Coordinates 30.223.200, 219.332.992. We plan to expand in every direction by approximately twenty kilometers in every direction-except South, of course-by the end of the year."_

"Well, that seems...extreme." LaCross is stroking his moustach nervously.

I wonder how deeply my homestead will be into those forests. I can't see the city at this distance, but I know I requesting something that was a fair distance away. As far away from the settlement as possible.

" _We are on a very timely schedule. I'm sure you understand. From that point in time, things should slow considerably._ "

"Ah. Excellent."

" _That is all I have to report as of this moment. Do you have any questions? Any concerns? I am here to assist your people in any way possible._ "

"N-no. That is...excellent. Thank you, Executor."

 _Executor? Strange name. I guess I can't judge._

" _Of course. Und lara khar."_ His fist presses against his broad white and gold breastplate. The crew nervously repeat the gesture, confused. And then the transmission is cut.

I spot the golden ship, much farther away than it used to be. Drifting towards the globe, leaving its electric streamers among the stars, stringing them together beautifully. I press my hands to the window, watching the gilded ship disappear into the blazing sun, headed towards it's destination.

" _Damn that Protoss!_ " I jump at Captain LaCross's voice. And his angry, pointing finger directing me towards the door. " _You_! Get out!" I hesitate, confused at the change in atmosphere. Several angry men step towards me, threatening and bristling. I bolt, skittish and bemused.

I nearly stumble down the steps, my hands barely gripping the bar in time. I stumble into the hallway, trembling. I hear the Captain ranting about authority and undermining.

"Well?" Fredrick trots towards me, smiling guilelessly. "Did you see-"

My palm slaps his cheek fiercely.

" _WHERE WERE YOU?!"_ I yell, ignoring the few passerby's and their startled expressions. Fredrick stops dead, his hand drifting to his cheek. He looks hurt, confused, pained as I continue to yell. " _Did you_ plan _on leaving me alone in a room full of jerks, or did a_ butterfly _fly by and_ distract _you?!_ "

He turns his eyes to me, wincing. I bite my lip, feeling hurt and alone. Still seeing those flashing, flaming blue eyes, boring into me, laughing at me. I cover my face, unable to look at him-Fredrick. And his mopey, tearing golden green eyes.

"I-I'm sorry."

I can't even reply. I inhale heavily, sighing.

"Just...I've got to go."

"Wait, I can explain-"

I push past him, and he doesn't try to stop me. I slowly tromp through the hallways, flowing around the staring faces, watching me with accusatory glances. I don't care. I pass by the open, cold, empty windows, trying to shake the blue from my head.

I open the door to our room. I kick off my boots, climbing the ladder to my bed and settling on the cold mattress, hugging my arms to myself. I listen to Reacher and Terra breath quietly, sleeping soundly together on his bed.

I can't wait to get home.

* * *

Executor: *sighs* I can't believe I held a straight face for so long, haha. That was intense. I hope the Terrans feel comforted and safe knowing we're here. *sparkle*

Cap'n: *# ! *#( )!* & PROTOSS #*( *#&$*(!)#($*


	5. Chapter 5-Kerralim, pt 2

Okeldy-Dokeldy Readers! We made it to the planet! Now, time to get cracking!

Jaili, oliverdragon, EtepZerUS, Nicb1, and rdkgummybear are the next people I would like to give a shout out to! Thank you for subscribing, guys!

Okay, now, as these chapters progress, I would also like to put out the option of commenting. Any and all input would, and will be much appreciated.*bows* Although, you reading this right now is also a huge honor. Thank you readers!

(Did I mention I'm thankful? Can I just...bow at your feet and thank you? Again?)

-MozzyMoo-

* * *

It's strange, to say the least. Seeing the stars disappear.

Their constant companionship has been a major positive point throughout this entire journey. We had literally swam through them to reach our new home. We had skirted their shining edges, trailing smokey clouds of dust in our wake. Watched them shift and change as we jumped across the many leauges of time and space. Artanissa knows the constant darkness and points of light are now as familiar to us as the sunrise.

Everyday, common, expected, and yet, unbelievably beautiful.

And now, we're leaving them behind.

The dusky twilight of the early Kerralim dawn begins to suck the white dots dry as we descend closer and closer to the planet's surface. I watch from the port side window, caught between the urges to bid my starscape farewell or to watch eagerly for the verdant surface below.

Choices choices choices.

 _Why can't things be easier?_

"Well. Isn't this a surprise?" Terra sidles up to my side, leaning up against the wall next to me, inserting a piece of gum into her mouth, molding it in with the already impressive wad between her teeth. "All packed up an' ready to go, eh?" She flicks a strap on my pack, and I shrug her off, pressing my cheek to the glass window, avidly watching the last few constellations flicker and fade.

"Come on. You know she's been waiting for this." Reacher is the next to approach, drawn like a magnet to Terra's side. He places a gentle hand on her shoulder, and she rolls her eyes.

"We've _all_ been waiting. But you don't see me completely packing up my stuff and loading it onto my back a half an hour before we land."

"We land in fifteen minutes." I correct, checking my holowatch quickly to ensure I'm right. My estimate is just a bit off. "Thirteen. You _might_ want to hurry if you want to get off sooner than everyone else."

It takes a moment for Terra to register what I'm saying. And, as close as we've become, she doesn't hesitate in smacking me in the back of the head. I wince as she stalks off, fuming through her tromping step and clenched fists. Reacher chuckles, watching her back recede. As soon as her agitated form finally disappears around the corner, he sighs, turning his attention to me.

"So, Cynthia, Cynthia, Cynthia."

"Yes, Reacher, Reacher, Reacher?" I parrot back, exhaling a large plume of fog onto the window, blocking the rest of the cloud cover outside. With no view available, I decide to spare the hulking behemoth a quick glance. He is in turn staring at the blank fog outside, pondering.

"What are you planning to do, girl?" he asks, conversationally.

I shrug. A question I had been asked several times. By others and myself, especially.

"Settle in. Claim the planet. Nothing special."

"Ah." he nods, scratching the sparse beard on his chin. "What if the Protoss get in the way?"

I grin, a deep fire burning in my chest and fingers. "I'll beat them back with a stick."

Our booming laughter echoes through the metal coffin of a ship, and I feel my smile die down. A deep pit of anxiety forms in my collarbone, constricting my throat and heartbeat.

 _What if it does come to that? What if the Protoss-_

 _What if my settlement doesn't turn out? What if I can't do it?_

 _What if I don't build fast enough? What if they send me home for not having Freddie?_

 _What if? What if-What if-What if?_

"Hey." I look up at Reacher, and he pokes me in the forehead, permanently and physically snapping me out of my panicky reservoir. I flounder, trying to sort out the meaning behind the gesture. "Don't worry about anything."

"W-worry?" I stutter, smiling widely and pumping my fist. "How can I be worried? This is going to be great! A new world, new opportunities, a new adventure! Th-this is right up my alley! I mean, who else gets to travel for such a long ways, and ends up with their own land and house and everything? I'm just so ready to get there Idon'tevenknowwhattodowithmyself-"

"Sh." he prompts, cutting off my rambling slur with another quick poke between the eyes. "If you need anything, just come to me and Terra, okay? That's all I was getting at."

I look up into his soft, brown eyes through slitted lashes, rubbing between my eyebrows.

"So you two are going to stay together, then?"

"Yep." He answers, folding his arms in triumph. "I'm pretty sure I've convinced her to keep me around."

Skeptical, I smirk. "That doesn't mean much in concerns to Terra. I don't think you've got her as convinced as you think."

Chuckling, he takes his massive hand and pats me on the head, rubbing up my bangs and leaving them askew. "You'll be surprised how easy she is to persuade. With the right motivation."

"Who's easy to persuade now?"

I jump, startled, as Terra herself appears over my shoulder, lugging several heavy bags. How on Kerralim did she sneak up on us like that? And how did she pack up her things so fast?

"Molly Kirkham." Reacher replies smoothly, rubbing his nose. "A few snogs, and she's willing to explode a star and rearrange the cosmos for you."

"Well, sounds like the girl for you, Reach." Terra sighs, tugging one of the massive duffle bags forward. "Here, take this and show Molly your dirty breeches. I'm sure she'll rearrange the cosmos after having a whiff of 'em." Reacher again bellows heartily, single handedly hefting the duffle over his shoulder, tying it closed and flexing his arms, testing the fragile strap's strength. With his other arm, he scoops up Terra's bag, holding it to his side.

"Now, Cynthia, we're heading to the ramp for unloading. Care to join us?" Terra invites, sweeping her arm down the hall, where a few other colonists are threading towards the back end of the convoy. I hesitate in answering, glancing out the port window.

This was it. The last time I'd ever be looking out this window. Standing in this hallway. Floating gracelessly through the air.

"Of course." I answer, shifting the pack on my shoulder and picking up my own, much smaller side bag. The odd couple both smile, turn, and lead the way, one dwarfing the other by a massive amount.

"Hey, do you think they'll have any bars in the city yet?"

"Thinking about the booze already, Ter?"

"It's been two months. Gum's great and all, but I need something to fire me up."

"Uh-huh. Right. I'm sure we'll find something." Reacher jokes, bumping his shoulder with hers. She, in return, body slams him, causing him to rock slightly to the side. He laughs at her attempts, and she punches him several times in the arm, blue eyes alight in anger.

It still amazes me how immature these two can be.

The ship shudders at the pull of the surface below us, and I can feel it whine and screech, releasing its landing gear and preparing for touchdown. It won't be too long now. We pass many doors. The opening to the cafeteria. The aching pipes and metal, slatted flooring. Now that we've neared the main bay, I can see that we aren't as early as I thought we would be.

It's full to the brim, nearly all the occupants of the voyage standing and waiting for the much awaited final moment. This was it. I listen to Terra and Reacher moan and growl at each other, blaming the other for the tardiness. I don't mind that much.

I thread through the crowd, apologizing as much as I can for sneaking past them. The ship shudders again, tilting slightly. The speakers announce 'five minutes until we land'. My heart gallops around and around my rib cage, giddy and uncontrollable. I smile, accepting an apology from Collin. Our bags had snagged together.

I don't care. I'm as light as air.

The metal wall of the bay door looms in front of my nose. The thick, cold metal shivers slightly, and I touch it with my palm. The decent of the ship begins to slow, and I feel my feet lift in my heavy boots. My throat clenches, my palms sweat, and my spine crawls. I take a deep breath, inhaling the grungy, dirty scent of travel.

Two minutes to landing.

I feel a creak through the flooring, and I stumble, my face hitting the wall. With a grunt and painful gasp, I wince and rub my nose, turning to the side as another tremor almost sends me to the floor.

And then I see him.

He's wearing his brown coat again. The collar is upturned, but that doesn't stop me from recognizing his mop of mussed caramel hair. His shoulders are slumped, his chin tucked against his neck, his pack heavy on his back.

"Fredrick!" I call. He glances up, at me. And turns away, melting into the crowd. "Hey! Wait! Hold on!"

One minute to landing. Please stand by.

"Fred! Fredrick wait!" His brown coat stays just within view, then disappears as an impassable wall of people surges forward, eager for the door to open, to let them free, to send them across the surface. I try to see over their heads, but I can't. I just can't.

"Freddie!"

A large tremor shakes the ship.

All is still. All is quiet. The mechanics of the convoy die down slowly, giving their final breaths. I pause in trying to wrench my way through two bodies and turn. The door remains shut, and I breath softly in time with everyone else.

The tension is so thick in the air, it's almost like drowning.

Something hisses and creaks.

"Welcome to the planet Kerralim, no. 0249 in the Dominion logs. Please, exit in an orderly and calm manner."

A brilliant beam of light cuts through us, piercing our eyes and hearts and souls. I hear many gasp, and I watch in breathless awe. The giant, steel door screeches, opening like the jaw of an animal. Feet begin to twitch, bodies pressing forward eagerly, trying to get out. I push back, taking in every detail for every moment as I can.

The light begins to dim, fading from intense white to a soft, dawning yellow.

A gust of air literally steals my breath. I nearly choke, unable to handle the pressure. Several people moan and quiver, the fresh breeze heavy with moisture and gravity. I'd heard the planet was slightly bigger than New Haven. The ship's settings had acclimated our bodies for the change, but not our minds.

I take a step forward as the door reaches the halfway point.

Birdsong rings through the air, the rustling of branches crisp and clear on a second gust of wind. My eyes begin to close, despite how badly I want to keep them open. Wide open, to see and hear and feel the sensations, as foreign as rain during a drought, shower over me.

The sounds of people. Bustling, working people. The surging monster at my back can't hold back. The ramp makes its slow descent to the planet's surface, and I'm roughly shoved forward into the dawn. I blink and stare, taking in the strangely beautiful landscape.

That's so...not...surprising.

Pine trees. The wind. A few fluttering blue blobs resembling birds. Below us is a stretch of concrete, cracked and full of weeds. I see it stretching into a road, on to a large gathering of buildings in the distance. I stutter in my step, trying to get out of the way. They're shoving too hard, forcing me to step, and step quicker. So many people are praising the land. The mass of more people below us.

My wonder crumbles into fear.

 _There's...too many. There's too many people! Where are the open spaces?! The land?!_

Our two wriggling masses collide. With me, front and center. I feel like I'm being sucked down a drain, surrounded by a current of people, swirling and drowning in the noise and smell and touch of a billion bodies. I struggle to re orientate myself, but I can't. I see the crowns of firs, and push towards them, trying to find any escape.

"Hey, kid!"

I feel myself being tugged backwards, and I swing my arms, screeching.

"Don't touch me! I'll kill you!"

"Woah, settle down, it's just me, Synth."

Reacher grins, holding my pack in one massive fist. I stop hissing and spitting, deciding to have a look around. Now that I'm standing still, I see that it isn't as evil or as busy as I thought. People are bustling about, sure, but not trying to pull me in or shove me down.

"You look like you didn't know how to navigate a docking port." Reacher chuckles, taking my hand like a parent with a child, to make sure they don't wander off. I growl, trying to tug my wrist away. "Now, Terra, where's the LAC?"

"Should be over there somewhere. Oh, you found a stray?"

Terra peeks around Reacher's massive chest, frowning at me.

"I thought we got rid of you back there. We have enough on our plates without trying to guide the likes of _you_ around."

"I saw you like-ugh! Reacher!-20 seconds ago!"

Terra shrugs.

"Should've been long enough to slip away. God, Reacher, why did you have to pick her up again?"

Reacher shrugs.

"She's hopeless. What else was I supposed to do? We could at least take her to the LAC."

Terra lets loose a sound halfway between a snarl and a derisive sigh, pushing her way through the swirling mass of bodies. Reacher pulls me forward, despite my protests. I hate the loss of space. Its suffocating and disgusting. It's even worse here than it was on the ship.

I look back.

Towering over the crowd is my home. What used to be my home. The last few stragglers and several crewmen are making their way down the gangplank, marveling at the difference around them. The ship itself is dim and dirty, rusted in too many places to count, full of barely functioning gears and machines.

I feel a surge of affection for it. It did bring me here, after all.

Maybe I'll go back to my home world to visit my parents someday. If I ever do, it will be on _that_ hunk of junk.

"Okay, good, at least we're smarter than half of the idiots on that ship. The line isn't too big yet."

We stop, and Reacher lets my wrist go.

"If you want a good lot, you'd better stick in this line, kid."

I glare up at him, rubbing my wrist.

"A lot of what?"

"Land, you idiot!" Terra hisses, shoving a man from behind, ensuring he doesn't cut into the strange, straight line of people leading to a small building. The man turns to me, eyes wild and hungry. I duck behind Reacher, my heart fluttering.

Luckily, the man leaves.

"Bunch of weirdos." Terra growls, snapping at a woman who is trying to reach into her duffle bag. Reacher graciously covers my ears, sighing. I stand, slightly ashamed at myself.

This is what I want, right? I want to be here? On this planet? Alone and independent? No need for anyone, surrounded by no one? This isn't turning out as well as I thought it would. Not at all.

We take a few steps forward. Terra triple checks that the closing lock on her bag is secure. Reacher puts me between them, keeping a wary guard for anyone else. It takes only a few minutes to reach the building...hut, really. Terra sets her bag down, cracking her knuckles.

"Okay. Within the city limits, right?"

"Yep."

I watch with curiosity as she leans forward, over a large holoscreen.

There aren't any people manning the station. It's just a small, wooden building with a plated screen bolted into its side. The words 'Land Allotment Center' are plastered in sloppy white paint on a plaque hanging above the glass.

Terra types a few things. Reacher bounces on his toes, nervous.

"You okay with a two floor building?"

"Yeah. More work to maintain, but maybe we could-"

"Just say yes. Geez."

"Yes. Let's do it."

Terra types in a few more things. I glance around.

There are a few people standing still, among all the flurry of activity. All are holding signs with words like 'Help Wanted' or, 'Good Jobs Here'. Smart move. Pick up the new colonists as they come in and out, snag the freshest blood to complete mundane tasks.

A group of smartly dressed captains walk by, laughing and smoking cigars.

I spot Collin. His tall, thin head is easy to spot. No doubt, his wife is nearby.

"Okay, Synth. Your turn."

"Wh-what?!"

Reacher shoves me forward, stepping out of line.

I'm faced with the most terrifying thing I've ever had to do. Determining my future.

 _Name?_

 _Cynthia Dominia Treemont._

 _Age?_

 _20._

 _Partner?_

I flex my fingers. Hesitate. Glance around. No one is watching. Terra and Reacher are standing off to the side, arguing.

 _N/A._

 _Within city limits?_

 _NO._

 _Please select lot._

I large map flickers onto the screen, projected with all of the curves and hills and streams, carved in like a molded, clay sculpture. Without any clear direction of artistic expression, of course, but still beautiful, nonetheless.

"Hurry up!" Someone shouts, and my hands tremble.

A bright, red dot marks the main settlement, Kerralim City. Several, smaller dots mark towns spread to the South, where areas of the map have been blacked out. _Already owned._

I take a chance and swipe down, pushing the view northward.

The map bleeds red.

 _RESTRICTED AREA. PROTOSS SETTLEMENT._

Looks like the Captain has already shared the plans the aliens made.

Only a few lots dot the landscape, shining white, unowned, free to be settled and molded and conquered.

"Come on!"

I spot a stream, cutting across one of the farthest lots, nearly severing it in half. It looks like it's a decent piece of land, with plenty of open ground. I click on it, and it flashes for a moment.

 _Are you sure?_

 _YES._

 _WARNING: PROTOSS SETTLEMENT APPROX. 64 MILES NORTH. CONTINUE?_

 _...yes?_

 _Please hold personal holo, like so._

I pull my holopad from my pocket, holding in the same way the symbol shows me. The smaller glass tablet blinks, accepting the information. My life, my home, my land is etched out into the fabric of the larger map, darkening until it is no longer visible to anyone else. It is _mine._

 _Thank you._

The man behind me shoves my shoulder.

"Finally! Come on, we haven't got all day!"

I stumble out of the way, my head spinning. I nearly drop my holopad in my worried haste, just catching it after a few missed finger glances. Reacher laughs, nearly snapping my collarbone as he slams his hand onto my shoulder.

"You satisfied, kid? Find something you like?"

I nod, looking at my small, insignificant screen. The Dominion's symbol is imprinted onto the background, permanently showing beneath the map in my hands.

 _Your destination is 69.31 miles north. Please continue forward._

I let out a breathless laugh. From what I could see on the glass, I had made a good choice, for once. Large, spacious, a good water source, plenty of woods for game and building materials. Far enough from the city. Close enough to...them.

I feel an invisible burden lift from my shoulders. Things are definitely looking better.

"931, Penn Square." Terra states, pulling on her bag and stretching her shirt over her stomach, examining it with a critical eye.

"What?"

"We live in building 931, on Penn Square. It's in the Eastern section of the city, just..." she glances at my screen, calculating something in her head. "...south of your settlement. Wow, that's far out there. Are you sure you'll be okay?"

I look her in the eye, and she stares on back.

"I...don't know." I say quietly, smiling. "But that's the fun of it, right?"

Her eyes widen, and she chews her gum slower, thinking over my reply.

"Ha." she chuckles, putting her hands on her hips. "Haha! At least you aren't all hoity-toity about it. Oh, look at me! I can fight off bears and survive like a cave woman out in the wilderness!" she laughs harder, and Reacher pats me on the shoulder again.

"I'm sure she could, though! What with her roundhouse kick! I'd be scared to be within ten miles of her!"

I fake a swing at him, and he dances back, laughing.

This is it. This is where I belong.

We begin to migrate through the crowd, and I get a good look at the forest around us. The trees _are_ different. Instead of the evergreen I'm used to, these firs are a lot darker, bordering on a shadowed black in their near their bases. At their tops, their needles begin to frost over, fading to a warm, off white green.

 _Interesting._

A small flock of blue blobs twitter and skip on the air overhead, and I watch with wide, oak eyes. Their wings look too small to hold them aloft, and yet they cheerfully glide through the air, their long tails like streamers.

 _Very interesting._

The crowd begins to thin, and I hesitate. I hear someone's familiar, weathered voice. Calling my name.

"Cynthia! Cynthia, friend!"

I stop, frozen.

I turn, tears in my eyes.

 _How could I forget?_

Carter trundles through the crowd, shriveled and hopping, a smile on his face.

"You forgot sock! You forgot sock! So glad I found you!"

He waves the small article of clothing high, and I run to him, grinning.

"Thanks! I'm going to need that!"

He chuckles, gently handing the small, soft bundle to me. I raise an eyebrow.

"Let me guess, you found it among the sorting bins?"

He laughs.

"Something like that."

I hug him.

He hugs me back.

"Good luck out there. I check in when docked."

I feel my heart constrict.

 _Oh. Right. He's not staying. He belongs on the ship. Of course, how stupid of me to forget to say goodbye. At least he remembered. At least I got to say goodbye._

"No cry. Crying for children."

I chuckle, wiping my eyes with my hands.

"I'm not crying. It's just...rain."

He looks up, pretending to squint at the sky.

"Ah. Best to get home, then." he states seriously. "I won't keep you."

I hesitate in fully letting go. It's only been two months. I've only known him for sixty days.

And yet, we had become such good friends.

On the ship, he had been so lonely. No one spoke to him. No one looked at him. He was the laundry man, with the squeaky cart and wrinkles. Trundling along, mourning his wife and loss. Silently, with a smile on his face.

It wasn't until I offered my help that he began to truly smile. He wanted to know about my family, my home, my life. He helped me through my first three weeks of homesickness and regret, always with a smile and my sock.

 _I lost this again. Here you go. How did your mom make strawberry jam again?_

 _Carter, you sly dog!_

He smiles his toothy, wrinkling smile at me, right now, one last time. I recognize this smile. It's a smile of sadness.

"Good luck, Cynthia."

I nod.

"You too, old fart."

His laugh disappears with him into the writhing mass of people. I watch his hobbled step, his weathered back, his mop of shock white hair. And then...he's gone.

"Synth! Come on!"

I step backwards. I shoulder my pack, wondering at how light it feels. My step is lighter, more confident, masking my trembling lip. The couple guides me forward, muttering at each other, pointing out landmarks and pieces of information on their own holoscreen.

"So, we'll take Track A-39 for 5 stops, and then we'll travel up Collard Street-"

" _No, no._ Track A-39 goes too far west for comfortable walking distance. Look, the B-10 goes right past the complex-"

"But the closest stops are nearly _five_ blocks away on either side-"

"Don't argue with me, Reach."

"Terra, you're insane. If you want to take the B-10, you're welcome to it. Here, we'll race. The first one to the building decides the fastest route."

Terra snarls, stomping a little faster, walking a little stiffer.

"I hate you!"

"Love you too!" Reacher calls, huffing a little as the road inclines.

"What were you two talking about?" I ask, trotting to keep up, my boots heavy and loud against the concrete.

"Carrier routes...into the city. Trains that run...everywhere, to get...anywhere." he explains through pants. Several people pass us, watching him with pity. He has both Terra's and his bags strapped onto his back, creating a daunting burden for any normal man. Of course, Reacher isn't a _normal_ man.

"Oh. That sounds important." I mutter, worried. The road levels out, and Reacher gives a sigh of relief, walking a little faster.

"Don't worry, kid. We'll help you figure out where you need to go."

"Ha! I don't need help! I can figure it out myself!" I also hold my nose in the air, mimicking Terra's pout. "I am too _brilliant_ for maps or anything of the like."

"Not funny. I'm serious."

"As am I." I joke, folding my arms. He cuffs me in the back of the head, sending my long, crow black hair flying.

We top the road, and I feel myself fill with dread. More crowds. This time, crowded onto a platform, next to a pair of steel beams. I spot Terra's bright orange cap and fluorescent purple and sharp black hair. Her hands are on her hips, and she's examining a large mess of colored lines, marked sloppily with hand written notes.

Reacher approaches her, looking at the jumble of noodle-like tracks.

"There. Synth, you'll take the F-20. It's the only line that goes that far north. The next one is in..." he checks his holo. "Oh-oh! Right now! Geez, kid, you've got luck!"

I hear a high pitched squeal in the distance, and my heart shudders along with the rickety platform.

"No need to wait, lucky _you_." Terra hisses, folding her arms and frowning. "Ours doesn't come for another 20-"

Her complaint is severed and frayed as I hug her tight. She gives a few 'ay-ay-ay's, struggling to get me off. Reacher bellows with humor, hoisting both of us up into a full armed, full backed bear hug. Terra can't breath anymore, and I can only laugh. And cry.

"R...ee...ch..." Terra wheezes, gesturing him to put us down. He gives both of us a minute squeeze, then sets us on our feet.

I can't stop crying.

The carrier limps forward, squealing like a skewered animal during the final few centimeters. The crowd undulates, people standing, brushing themselves off, getting ready to leave and let go. I crumple my fists in Terra's jacket, begging the seconds to drag a little longer. They don't, and I have to force the tears to stop. I have to force myself to let her go as the time, shorter and shorter and shorter, ends so soon.

She pats me on the back of the head.

"Your train's here, Synth." she grips my shoulders, holding me at arms length. Her thumb brushes over my cheek, amiably wiping away my tears, and she gives me a grin. "Go get 'em, kid."

Reacher pats my shoulder as people begin to board.

"I'll help you get on." he murmurs, and I nod, wiping away whatever excess Terra left behind.

I mirror her smile, but it never reaches my gut or my chest or the rest of my face.

 _I'm scared._

Reacher's mass helps to part the crowd. They break apart and flow around him, like river water around a dropped stone. I stay as close to his back as I can, taking comfort in his broad shoulders and confident stride.

"All right, Cynthia. Good luck out there. Hop off the carrier at the end of the track, and you'll be about 6 miles from your 'stead."

The gaping white doors and fluorescent interior, crowded with dirty, darkened bodies give me reason to pause. I hear the gears begin to whir in the mechanics, and I nearly step back.

Reacher shoves me forward, and I barely have time to grasp a metal rod inside the car, halting my fall.

I turn, ready to bark at him.

More people are in his place, and I bite my tongue, letting them file forward, pushing me farther and deeper into the metal cacoon. I grasp at another metal pole, letting everyone else shove past me, cold and angry and awful. The doors hiss, a long, screaming alarm sounds, and I'm sealed away, unable to say goodbye.

The tram begins to crawl once more. I see Reacher's dark eyes, unbelievably morose, flash past me through the port windows. I see Terra's hair, her orange cap, her leather jacket. Her starry blue eyes, clouded with tears. She grins at me, waving.

I grip the metal rod as several people press against me at once, shaken by the tram's movements.

 _I'm scared. Wait, wait, I'm not ready yet-_

The tram doesn't care what I'm thinking. It begins to pick up speed, and my friends' faces are lost in a blur of blue and green and white and gold. The sun has risen. I can't see it past the quavering in my vision. I feel sick. Beyond sick.

 _What have I done?_

I feel with clarity the breath on my neck, the shuffling of feet on metal, the upturned collars and cold stares. I grip my bag to myself, careful to watch it and its contents. I jump at every slight touch, every full lunged cough, every whisper. They're all here to torment me. And I'm alone.

I close my eyes and grip the cold, iron bar for comfort. It doesn't stay frigid for long, heating up at the intense fever in my palm.

I don't know how long I stand there. How long my eyes are closed.

All I know, is that when the tram came to a stop, when men and women are thrown against me like large sacks of meat, and when my hand slips slightly from sweat...I open my eyes.

And see him.

His coat collar is upturned still, brown and droopy and bundled against the morning breeze. His hands are in his pockets, his usually bright eyes dark and shadowed, his curling mass of soft brown hair unusually ruffled and messy. He's walking slowly, just disembarking. His back turns to me.

" _Fredrick_!" I shout. He doesn't hear me. The glass is too thick. I head for the nearest door, but then he begins to walk away, in the opposite direction. "W-wait! Fredrick!"

I get too many dirty glares and startled cussing as I begin to push through the crowd after him. I see the open door, I'm so close, _so close-_

A loud, static beep cuts me off, and I see the metal paneling slide shut permanently. Desperate, I press myself against the nearest window, thudding my fist against it.

" _FREDDIE!"_

"Lady, keep it down!" someone shouts, but I don't care.

I see him pause. I slam my fist against the window, and it bends and wavers beneath my hammering. I'm almost afraid I'll break it. But it catches his attention. He turns. The curiosity in his face is genuine. His surprise, even more so.

The tram begins to move again, and I try to mouth out my message. He notices the window moving, me trapped inside, and I see his step quicken, his step getting closer to me. Closer, so close-

A wall of people pushes him back. Fear and anxiety twist his face as he tries to shove through them.

I finally shout my two words, hoping he'll hear them.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry for everything!"

Growls and complaints begin to rise, but I don't care.

He's gone.

I let out a low, quivering breath. It hurts not to know if he heard-

A flurry of movement explodes on the platform outside. I see him.

He vaults over the shoulders of the people, landing lightly on his feet, as lithe and graceful as a cat. His hazel eyes narrow in on mine, and he dashes forward, keeping up with the carrier easily. He jogs, miming something to me. I don't understand, so I repeat my own message.

 _I'm sorry._

 _I'm sorry for ignoring you. I'm sorry for giving you hope. I'm sorry for slapping you, for hitting you, for hating you, for being the worst partner, for-_

The platform is about to end. Buildings and fences rise, marking the beginnings of the true city. Fredrick notices it. He gives me one last look. He smiles his roguish smile. He places his fingertips on his lips.

And blows me a quick kiss.

He nearly slams into the wall as we enter a tunnel.

Black and white flash, the smells and sounds increase, and I feel crushed and battered.

But at least my conciseness is clear.

And I can look forward to my future that I have decided. _For myself._

* * *

Kaldarax: Soooo...Executor...I have a question?

Executor: Yes, youngling?

Kaldarax:...when can we visit the Terran?

Executor: *facepalm* No. Just...no.

Kaldarax: But-

Executor: *walks away, hand in the air* No.


	6. Chapter 6-Groundwork

*drumrooolllllllll* This chapter's thank you's go out to 'BCPowerhouse', 'Prevalent117', and 'ReadingFriendHurry Up'! (clever name, I like it, haha)

Now, as strange as I am (more like narcissistic), I opened a DeviantArt account to post character designs and such. If you ever want any visuals for character looks, maybe my sloppy pencil doodles'll give you an idea. Just look up the name right down here. Thank you!

-MozzyMoo

* * *

The echoing of the trees is hushed and strangely ephemeral in the chilled, early morning. That's the first thing that hits me as I step off of the train. The second thing to hit me is the enormity of the task I've just set before myself. I watch the train pull away, empty now, clicking and clacking like a bone snake down the track, back towards it's hovel in the city. I check the calendar.

It won't be back for nearly eight hours. There's no reason for it to come out here as often. I turn, my bag thumping against my leg in a mellow counter rhythm as I begin my trek through the trees. Their dark, soft whisperings keep me company as I hike. My comtab informs me that I'm nearly a half an hour from the edge of my homestead, at this brisk pace.

I decide to slow a bit, touching every branch, every trunk, every frond of every plant on this strange, new world. Their soft skin runs easily beneath the pads of my fingers, fresh and alive. The wind sighs, bored at my slow pacing, setting a wave of its mass through the branches, setting them chattering at each other, like rattling scales. Or the snarl of something big, dark, and full of sharp teeth.

 _Run._

The thought is blissful. I begin to jog, my boots crashing through the brush. Unlike home, no one's ever been here. I am the first. My pace quickens, my breath already labored, my legs already burning. The bag is heavy, so heavy. But I don't care.

I speed up.

I run faster.

I breath harder.

I laugh.

I dance through the stiff, black trees, blending into their brown bark, becoming one with the green and blue and whirling wind. Invigorated, the breeze howls in my hair, running with me, keeping it's pace, as graceful as a nymph.

The trees snap at my ankles, and I laugh again.

 _You can't catch me! You can't stop me!_

There are no hallways, no metal walls confining me anymore. I run, my boots marking the fresh dirt with heavy potholes. The homestead draws steadily closer, and I feel my lungs begin to beg for me to stop. The comtab announces ten minutes.

The wind weaves up and above me, swinging on the branches, sending needles towards my skull. I see a bush rustle, a high pitched screech announcing that I'm not alone. I don't care. I run with the forest.

Just because I can.

Too bad my physical limitations are too much for me to handle.

I have to stop eventually, my canvas bag swaying wildly, my head swimming in pain and exhaustion. I cough, and the breeze plays with me, asking me, teasing me, _why did you stop_?

I giggle joyously, letting my bag droop and drop to the forest floor, pulling my hair out and back up into a neat, trim ponytail once more, breathing heavily all the while.

The bushes rustle again. I glance up.

I see the leaves tremble.

I regret running.

I realize again...that I'm new here.

I've _never_ been here before.

 _No one has_.

What's to stop something from finding a new, hardier, leather and cloth clad meal? What'll stop a monster from running out and trampling me down?

I wouldn't be able to get away.

I feel the backpack slip from my shoulder when I see a pair of glowing, deep purple eyes glowing from the darkness of the leaves. Right into mine. White teeth flash, and I feel my hands come up, quivering, trying to grab for something.

A single paw makes its way forward. A snout pushes out into the air, sniffing wildly, curious.

It doesn't stop looking at me.

I watch, breathless in fear.

It travels out of its shelter in the brush, wide, starry eyes nearly too big for its head, blinking slowly in the sunlight. It's padded feet are clumsy, like large stones at the end of twig thin, russet red legs. It stares right at me. From below.

It's only as tall as my knee, maybe the size of a large cat or an average dog.

 _I'm new here. I'm new. You've never seen anything like me, huh?_

I crouch against the ground, and it stumbles closer to me, long, crooked neck outstretched. It's mouth, a small, vertical slit between its nostrils, opens, emitting a high pitched squeal. I see the end of its tail just snaking out of the bushes, nearly twice as long as its distorted, gangly body.

"Lookit you." I murmur, and it shies. It cries again, and I see small fangs, glistening in its mouth as it's nose wrinkles in displeasure.

Now, I'm normally the kind of girl who walks the other way at the sight of a snake or particularly large spider, but...something about seeing this... _thing_. I stretch forward my hand, and it snaps at me. I want to touch it.

"Sh." I murmur, and its tail weaves. The wind rustles through my hair. The trees sway mildly, their colors a vivid scream in my eyes. The small, violet red creature arches its back, displaying claws as it paws at me.

And I just laugh.

The sound scares it away. It scampers into the bushes, letting out small whistles and shuddering screams. I watch the bushes sway where it disappeared. I feel my heart expand, both in disappointment and post-excitement adrenaline. I stand. I brush myself off. I pick up my bag. I begin to walk.

The creature's scream accompanies me to the border of my land, never far behind.

* * *

You know when there's that moment? That moment where everything falls into place? When you feel that the entire universe, all of fate is fighting for you, giving you all of the rewards you deserve? When you finally breach the barrier of uncertainty and come into the cataclysmic light of truth and absolute understanding?

I haven't had it.

"Comtab, locate nearest river." I ask, exasperated.

"Insufficient data." It moans at me, and I growl, shaking it at the sky.

" _You downloaded the entire frickin' area when I bought this lot of land! How on Kerralim do you not have the data_?!"

"Insufficient data." The response is crisp, and I growl, stomping my feet, feeling my face blossom into heat, burning in anger.

I sit against a tree trunk, kicking at the needles and sliding to the ground. I throw the comtab down against the fairly bouncy ground, watching it settle beneath the leaves. I tug my bag from my shoulders, setting down my canvas bag to the side. I pull out one of the few pieces of food I managed to scrounge from the ship before coming here. A bag of dried apples.

I chew venomously on the sharp shards, glaring at the screen in the dirt.

"You piece of garbage." I hiss, my cheeks full.

"Insufficient data." It chimes, and I throw an apple at it.

My eyes droop, and I begin hitting my head against the tree at my back. Over, and over, and over again.

It's getting dark. And I haven't found where I want to stay. I don't want to set up a fire in the middle of the trees. Heaven only knows what could find me with a beacon to guide them. I have no other options, though. I look for a gap in the trees, concerned with the endless stretch of trunk on bush on trunk.

Maybe I can sleep without a fire. Take my chances of something not finding me in the dark. On an alien planet. Full of...whatever's out there. I'm too tired to think. I just want to sit here and relax, but the threat of death and reality as a whole urges me to get off of my butt.

I ignore the pressure, pressing my palms to my eyes.

 _Get up, Cynthia. Come on, you can do it._

"No." I moan at myself. "I don't want to."

 _Come on, there's a whole world out there!_

"I can see plenty of world from right here." I mutter, but I stand corrected. A few fluttering birds screech at me, ducking and weaving from branch to branch, leaves on the wind, telling me to leave. Telling me to move. The sky is orange red, as deep as an actual fruit, as tasty on the mouth as a sweet, summer breeze.

I still don't want to go right now.

I still don't want to reach the end right now. I don't want to find the place where I'll build my home right now. I don't want adventure right now. I want something else right now. I want...I don't know, maybe a sandwich?

Right now?

I'm so hungry, and tired, and I can't feel the back of my head. Has the night come so fast? The sky is steadily rolling towards a deeper, sullen maroon, the Sun setting, running away from me and the oncoming night.

My head bobs, and I droop against the trunk. My comtab flickers a few times, telling me I'm approximately two hours from the Protoss settlement. _Warning. WARNING_.

Flashes of red and flashing purple decorate the back of my eyelids as I yawn.

Maybe...just a few more minutes? I've been wandering...all...day.

I wonder how Freddie's doing? I wonder if Reacher and Terra got to their building? Are they doing good?

Kaldarax. I wonder how Kaldarax is. Especially Kaldarax.

I see his golden bangles and white clothing in my hindsight, sparse and pure against his blue-steel skin. The joy I felt rushes through me as I think about how we spoke. As he spoke, and I listened and played along. It's been a while since I've had a friend...

A flash of lighting awakes me. I scream, grasping at my bags and scrambling to my feet. I expect the trees to rattle and the quake of sound and barking electricity to strike. It doesn't come.

I hear a quite hum, and I see banners of blue loop above me, through the holes and broken branches. I see gold. I see red. I stand, swaying, and I see white. The moon is high. The stars, sparkling among the blanket of space, of the sky, and those streamers of blue cut through it all like knives.

I begin to run.

I stumble, grunt, run back, grab my comtab, and I follow the banners, waving my arms like a deranged maniac, hoping they'll see me. This is the closest I've been to them...maybe I'll see him. Maybe I'll see my friend Kaldarax. Maybe I'll see his friend, Xachia. Maybe I'll see-

 _NOPE._

The golden Scout ships trade positions, crossing an 'x' through my vision. I nearly face plant several times, but I don't stop running. I don't stop following. I don't know how much longer my feet can handle it, broken by the wear of my boots. I don't know if my chest can take it, as full of heart and air as it is. I push harder, my side exploding into a fiery inferno.

This is usually where I'd give up. This is where I'd say good job, pat myself on the back, and return home.

 _Not this time._

I actually have something important I need to follow this time.

I break from the canopy. The Scouts are steady in their course, in a straight, unwavering line, marking their passage quite rudely through my air space. I'll allow it this once, though. I pant, I wheeze, I curse my out of shape thighs and calves, dragging myself up a gently sloped hill. The Scouts disappear, and I finally reach the top, watching them-

 _Holy...holy holy mother load. No way. That's...that's not possible._

I stand, my bag hitting the ground with a thud.

My mouth unhinges like a broken door, maw wide open and unable to take in air. The Scouts fly steadily over the trees, dipping and rising with the land, following its curves and crevices, as beautiful and graceful as swans. Golden swans, of course, with electric guts instead of bird guts, of course, but still. The description is accurate.

But that's not even what I'm paying attention to.

There. A pinprick of light in the distance. I pull my comtab to my eyes, using the camera function to look, to stare, to wonder, to look closer, cursing them under my breath.

A large, rotating crystal, as blue as the ocean and as mystical as the golden Carrier, drifts in the air, just in my viewing distance, a spindly ring of gold holding it aloft.

I let the comtab drop.

 _DANG. They don't waste any time!_

I glance around at my open lot of land, frowning. I do a mental comparison. Compared to theirs...mine's so plain. So...empty. So...lackluster.

I drool over the golden aquamarine for a few more minutes, unable to pick up any specific details at this distance. If it weren't for the night, or the initial guidance, I wouldn't have been able to ever see it. See where they are. How close they are...how close I've placed myself to them.

I let the glass tablet drop, biting my lip. I finally examine my surroundings.

I'm...on a plateau, it seems. The grassy field is relatively flat and large, surrounded by the black and white and fading aqua trees. I do a full turn, and I see that it's the same all around. The flashlight in my comtab flickers to life, and I bend down, examining the turf.

Dark. Crumbling. Full of roots and grass.

I dig my fingers in, pulling up a good sized chunk of earth.

I smile as I see the small head of a burrowing creature, long, slithering and midnight black.

"Uh-huh." I hum. I put the grass back down, wiping my hand on my pants. I pace a few steps, towards the end of the plateau. I ring the border, examining the surroundings. A gentle hill, covered in some places by deep purple flowers, emitting a sweet smell.

I walk a little quicker. And then I see what I hope to see, giving a small sigh of relief and gratitude. Dropping my bags for the final time, I jog down to the bottom of the hill, kneeling beside a small, trickling stream. With trembling fingers, I pull a small, metal stick from my pocket.

 _These are the things you'll need for a good plantation, bumpkin._

I hear my father's voice, bridging my youngest memories. I see the summer, New Haven sun, his tan, wrinkled hand stretching and pawing at the dirt.

 _Land. Plenty of room to grow and expand._

I dip the metal stick into the water, pulling it out quickly, setting it on a large stone nearby.

 _Good soil. Nice and dark. If you see something living in it besides weeds, you'll know it'll work just fine, just fine._

I crouch on the ground like a hump backed golem, my hands gripping my knees, my eyes wide. The end of the water meter darkens for a moment, and I feel my fingers tighten. Clawing into my pants and skin as I wait. And watch.

The metal turns a mellow, calm blue bird indigo.

 _And a creek or river nearby, for watering and life. You need water to live, bumpkin, and so does the world._

I feel a delighted sound crash through my teeth as I leap into the air, throwing my arms and up over my head, dancing and laughing, my head light with adrenaline and lack of sleep. The outbursts of bubbling air reduce to giggles as I jump and lay down on the grass, rolling in it, blessing it with unintelligable words. I end up with my face upturned towards the sky.

 _I did it. I did it. I found it, Mom. I found it Pops. Hahaha, aren't you proud?_

I snore.

* * *

It's unaware.

It's calmly chewing on it's plants, small, sightless eyes closed against the sun. It's extremely tall ears, elongated nearly beyond reason, flicker wildly back and forth, casting it's radar everywhere, detecting any kind of rushed heartbeat, an exhaled sigh, the muscles of a predator crouching, ready to pounce. Where it can escape. Where it can fly to live another day.

I almost feel pity.

I snap a stick between my hands.

It's head jolts up, body lengthening as it stares in my direction, large, heart shaped nose wet and pink and trembling in fear.

I give a banshee's scream, tearing from my hiding place, and it squeals in turn, bounding away into the underbrush.

It screams in pain as it's jerked into the air, it's paws flailing and mouth emitting pitiful cries, begging for pitiful mercy. I can already tell its leg is broken from its weight, which makes this next part easier. I silence it with a quick knife slash to the throat. I carefully adjust it's body so that most of it's blood drips and flows into it's fur.

"Sorry, bud, but I'm in the mood for meat." I whisper, untangling the snare from it's toes. It's head lolls, and I strap it's legs to a stick, tying it firmly. It dangles beside another companion. I feel a bit broken hearted at the small, dead bodies, but my famished stomach reminds me otherwise.

Satisfied with my catch, I gather up my supplies: The ropes of the simple snare, my own snacks and bait, my comtab, and my brace of...'hoppers'. 'Geronimos'. 'Flufflily's. I'm still working on a name. I'm the first to find them, I believe. I have the right.

A small tingle of pleasure runs up my spine as I walk back through the woods. Already, a small pathway has begun to wear into the landscape, traced by my boots for nearly a week now. I still have to push away branches occasionally, but I don't mind. I'm leaving my mark.

It takes only several minutes to reach the edge of the hill that creates my plateau. I know it's only so easy to catch these creatures because they don't know any better. They don't know to avoid the foreign scent or tangled webs or small, convenient sources of food. They will learn eventually. The thought bites.

I've come to think of myself as a great hunter. So incredibly intelligent, all the fauna on this planet will cower in fear at the merest glimpse of my shadow. So deadly, even the predators know to stay away, for I will destroy them all-

I wheeze like an old man by the time I get to the top, the 'Bouncers' swaying heavily against my back.

I need to bulk up my calves again. As soon as possible.

My impromptu campsite is on the opposite side of the major piece of fflatlining land. I wince, huffing as I hike across the barren, windy area, the sun burning into my scalp and nose. I already have several sunburns, and a definite tan. At this rate, I'll be as dark as the trees themselves by the end of next week.

I'll have skin like Papa's.

The thought makes me smile.

Or I'll have skin as red as Mom's.

I reach the ring of uprooted grass and dark, homey earth. My little one man tent, a single triangular prism with only a zipper holding it closed, looks drooping and pitiful in the building heat. New Haven definitely wasn't this hot this early in the year. I should probably plant summer fruits and vegetables at this rate.

I crouch next to my small fire pit, rummaging in my pack nearby. I pull a few sticks from my pile of pre gathered firewood, moaning at the loss, knowing full well I'll have to restock soon. But at least I'll have a nice...'bunny' sandwich.

God, I'm awful with names.

I arrange the kindling in a small pyramid, flicking on the lighter from my bag. It doesn't take long before I have a small, gasping fire, begging for more. I obligite it with a few more pieces of large wood, before it can be smothered to extinction by the breeze. My one man can only do so much.

I rearrange the rocks. I prop up a few sticks. I take the first 'bouncy-baby', using my knife to peel back it's belly skin, exposing it's still throbbing and twitching insides. I refuse to inhale, silently gagging. I'm definitely more of a plant person when it comes to gutting. Give me a pumpkin, and I'll have that sucker empty and baking within five minutes.

I turn the skin inside out, letting the guts slide out and pile into a hole nearby. Usually, my mother would reprimand me for not using all of the animal, but...when I use the knife to poke at and disconnect the throat and heart and a few intestines...

No.

Just.

No.

And I still have to do this a second time.

I carefully drape the empty, bloody sack of skin and meat on a pole, using the knife to partially scrape away most of the hair on it's body, gingerly slicing off the ears, leaving a blind, thin husk of lean meat.

I prop it against the fire, and the flames begin to sizzle as drops of blood fall into it's greedy maw.

I look at the other thing. It lays, still furred and full of guts, waiting to join it's friend.

I shudder and stand, ignoring it. Instead, I wander around to the other side of my tent, looking down the precipice that marks the other rounded edge. I behold my second problem. And I feel an overwhelming sense of frustration.

A pile of three logs, freshly chopped and notched, ready to be laid into the foundations of a cabin, lay at the bottom of the hill. It took me nearly a day to chop down and drag each log. And, as my habit when my mind has nothing to do, I've already calculated the proportions of my ideal cabin. And the number of logs I'll need.

Too. Many.

It will take months, by myself, to build just the outer walls. Unless I cut down on space...but this is where I'll be living for the rest of my life. The argument is potent in my foresight, and I put my hands on my hips, growling. It'll take too much time to build it up here.

That is, if I can even get the massive behemoths up the incline of the steep plateau. I've already tried. Twice. I nearly broke my ankle the second time, so I'm now reluctant to reproduce any attempt in the near future.

In the meantime, I've resolved to cut down and simply find the number of logs, possibly hiring a few people willing to help later. Just to get them up the hill. And piling them on top of each other.

I knock my knuckles against my forehead, yelling gruffly.

I hate not being able to do it myself.

I look off into the woods, pondering deeply my course of action. The woods hold no boundaries for me. Of course, there aren't any boundaries for anything out there either. Not a good idea. Staying here is hopeless, at this rate, with no help or continual supplies or anyone to hear me-

I kick at the grass, stalking back and falling to the ground beside the fire, tired of life. I lay, face down, for a long moment, listening to the skin of the 'grass-hopper' sizzle and split and burn and char and fully cook, turning red, angry muscle to tender, auburn brown. The smell drifts on the air, and I roll onto my back, sitting up, watching the meat, turning it in the fire.

Nicely browned. Crispy on the outside, slightly bristled with fur. It looks much more appealing now that I can actually eat it.

I might as well finish off the other one.

I can already feel the gags building in my chest as I grip the limp foot of the creature. I can't leave it uncooked like this. It'll spoil. I hate it though. It's so...gross.

My knife touches it's breast bone, and I gulp, feeling my tongue stick to my teeth as I try not to breath too deeply. Just as I make the slit...I get the oddest feeling. Where your skin prickles and you feel the pupils of some creature burrow deep into your back, targeting your fragile heartbeat.

I feel something watching me.

Blood spills on my pants, and I cuss avidly, dropping the limp little thing, it's innards spilling onto the grass, staining it black and brown and scarlet. I shiver, standing and shaking out my hands, little squeaks of disgust retching out of my throat as I feel the hot, thick liquid trace down my legs, staining my pants. I try to fix it, but I end up getting the thick, maroon liquid on my hands.

The prickling intensifies.

I cast my dark eyes about, my heart racing unnervingly.

And then...I see it.

A squat, black shape. Unfolding on the horizon. Hulking and furred and massive as it climbs the hill.

I pull back my hair, streaking blood on my face like cheap warpaint, staining my skin and adding shadows to my eyes as I choke on a yell.

The monster breaches the horizon, and I trip backwards, knocking the cooking meat from it's pedestal in my haste to grab my bag. I rummage through it, trying to find it...oh God, where is it?! I dare not glance up. My hands are shaking as I grab the handle of-

"Kid?! That you?!"

I grab the pistol anyway. I whip my arm around like a snake, snarling.

Reacher jumps backwards, hands in the air and mouth round.

"HOLY MOTHER OF-"

"YOU SCARED ME!"

"YOU SCARED _ME!_ "

"DON'T SNEAK UP ON ME LIKE THAT!"

"I JUST WALKED UP THE HILL! I DIDN'T DO ANYTHING SNEAKY WHATSOEVER, _YOU LITTLE PUNK_!"

A moment of charged silence. He glares at me. And I feel my heart leap in joy.

I begin to laugh slowly, my fingers rigid around the pistol's hilt, my finger still teasing the trigger, pointed right at his chest. His hands are still up, defensless, in the air, massive fingers curling slightly as he stares at me.

"Oh my God, kid. What _happened_ to you?"

I laugh harder, my body shaking with uncontrollable spasms.

He looks mildly concerned.

Slowly, he inches forward, eying me warily, trying to ascertain my sanity. Like a striking cobra, he grabs the barrel of the gun and rips it from my fingers. I just laugh. And laugh. And shake.

"I..." the words are trying to push past the barrier of my giggles. "I...thought..you were...an animal." I arch my back, tears streaming from my eyes. "I thought...I was going to die."

Reacher sympathetically pats my shoulder.

"Aye. Calm down, kid. It's okay. Terra wanted me to come out and check on you. Glad I did. You look like you've been through Hell."

I shake my head, wiping my nose and trying to clasp my lungs back together.

"Nah. It's been...fine. Really good, actually. Plenty of food, shelter, this perfect settlement. All good things."

"Then what's with the blood and the gun?"

I look down at myself. I smell the congealed scent of metal on my cheeks and hands, and I see red turned a crackled brown on my palms.

"Ah. Sorry. I probably look like a wreck." I giggle, wiping sweat from my forehead. "Just...skinned some 'jumpers'."

"Jumpers?" he asks quizzically, gentle. I wave my hand, sniffing.

"Still working on the name. I found some good looking and good tasting things in the forests around here. So, I get rights, right? I get to name them?"

"Yeah, yeah." he agrees amiably, massive shoulders rolling as he stands. "So. This is it? This is where you're settling?"

I nod, a creeping flush of pride clouding my eyes.

"Yep. All mine."

"Where's your house?"

"I need to build it, idiot." I sigh, standing and trying to brush some of the drying red from my pants. "Which _isn't_ going so well." I begin to walk on, waving my arm to gesture him forward. He hesitates, still cautious. I stop at the edge of the grassy cleft, pointing down authoritivley at the logs.

"There it is. My lovely little cottage in these here woods."

He looks at the pile of wood.

He looks at me.

"You really don't know how to moderate."

"Nope."

"How did you get them this close?"

I put my hand on my hip, flexing my other arm, smirking. He squints, leaning forward.

"What am I looking at?"

I punch his jaw good naturedly.

He laughs, his frigid cautioun melting as I yelp, holding my hand to myself. Just as we've always done.

"It's good seeing you again, kiddo."

"You too, you old troll." I hiss, wringing out my knuckles. I'm not going to lie...I've missed him. But it's not like I can show it. What adult living in the woods like a savage would show _that_ kind of emotion?

Of course, he's a city slicker now. He doesn't have any excuses.

He picks me up with one arm, squeezing me tight, still looking down at the logs.

"Good job, Synth." he says jokingly, eyebrows low and thick jaw set. "But I bet I can top it."

"No way." I start, shaking my head. "Don't-"

He's already trotting down the hill, rolling his sleeves up to his shoulders. I follow hastily, and he puts his hands beneath one of the logs, his face darkening a few shades as he heaves against it. It rolls easily, and he begins walking up the incline, rolling the massive piece of wood like a roll of dough.

I gasp, looking from him to the log.

"Oh no you don't!" I yell at the back of his head. "Get back here, that's my job!"

He ignores me.

"No! Come on, let me build it myself! I want to do it!" I growl, following him up, aching to put my hands on the bark. I do. The burden is much lighter now. He lessens his pressure, and we push together, huffing and panting.

The time seems too short, and we have it up on top. We nearly run my tent over with the force of of final heave. I pant, draping over the log, exhausted. My stomach growls, and I look up.

The brown lump of meat I was cooking earlier, still warm, it seems, is laid out on the grass neatly.

"Want a snack?"

"Nope. I already ate." he grunts, turning and heading back down the hill. "Go ahead! I want to see if I can get one up by myself! That'll be something to tell Terra, aye?!"

I nod, not answering.

In the time it takes to sit, carve up the salvagable meat, sprinkle it with a fleck of spices, and chow, he pushes the other two logs up. I don't care now. I've done my piece, and I relish my reward.

The chewy, stringy food is good enough. Not nearly as good as my mom's, but that's understandable. Nothing rivals my mother's cooking. I gnaw on a leg, fatty juice dripping from my chin.

Reacher stalks towards me, wiping red sweat from his cheeks.

"Thanks."

He grabs a section of ribs, tearing into the fragile meat.

"HEY."

"You're welcome." He murmurs around the food, wincing at the pallid, plain taste. "Any other grunt work I can put you in debt for? I'm going to enjoy holding you to this."

"No." I growl, crouching over the remaining food, a miser with wounded pride. He laughs.

"Then it seems that my work here is done. I just needed to come and see if you were alive. My job's done, with a little extra on the side. See you later, kid."

"WHAT." I choke as he begins striding away, chewing at the bones. I scramble to my feet, and he turns back.

"You're invited to come and have dinner and spend the night, if you want! Terra might make you sleep in the alley outside, but you look like you could use the company!" he shrugs, walking farther away. "I've already called for the tram! It'll be here in about forty minutes! Be there or be square!"

And just like that...he's gone.

I sputter, my innards being pulled in two different directions.

The rush of emotions I felt in seeing Reacher are still intense in my system. I sit in my grass, my tent creaking in the breeze, my pile of logs silent, on top of my plateau. I grab my comtab, which I had dropped near the fire. He only stayed for about...ten minutes. And he's already leaving again. What. The. Hell.

I growl and gripe as I pack up my bag. I'm not going to skip a chance to see Terra again. It's only been a week since I've seen her, but, out here, time is so slow. It feels like it's been an eternity.

As an afterthought, I shake out the last animal's body, letting the moist guts spill into the hole, scraping away the excess fat and whatever else is left inside. My own stomach roils as I cover up the mess with dirt. I roll the fur together, making sure nothing...leaks.

I'm definitely more of a plant person.

I douse the fire with a few more handfuls of dirt, placing all of my extra things within my tent, checking ath it's entrance is completely closed and foundation firm in the ground.

" _Reacher!_ " I shout, running after him. "Slow your butt! I'm coming!"

My homestead can survive a day without me. And I can survive a day without it. The forest will still be here. The animals will still be here. My tent...my fire pit...my tent.

I follow my friend into the trees, leaving behind my home and the floating, sparking blue crystal in the distance.

* * *

I KNOW WHAT YOU'RE THINKING.

Where are our Protoss buddies, right? Don't lie, I can feel the question.

Do not fear. They will appear soon. To keep you occupied, here's an opportunity for you to put something in the story :3

I'm going to let _you_ decide what the little creatures are called. Feel free to either DM me or post a comment with your opinion on the title that should be bestowed on the 'jumpers'.

I'll pick my favorite and put it in the next chapter. Thank you for reading, and don't forget to fav and follow to see your name up on the honorable mentions! :D -Mozzy MOO


	7. Chapter 7-Kerralim City

GRAAAH _HOLY CRAPOLI_! I won't say everything that's been going on, but let's just say it's a lot. ;_; I'm so sorry that I haven't updated in such a long time (I feel like this is going to be a regular thing), but I hope you enjoy this next chapter! I was watching StarCrafts this afternoon and it re-kindled my passion. BTW, I'm taking a big risk by writing during NaNoWriMo season while I have another big project going on, so I hope you appreciate what I'm doing. Just saying ^w^ -haha

Again, here's a BIG THANK YOU TO *deep breath* Prevalent117, Arachnodon, Brekken18, Pyrothekid, Manix32, Epiclink8480, The Lillie, Snolf, Azarune, MechaKingGhidorah100, Xmanian, Troublefound17, Hejrobin1, Gcruz, Xade, Avatarange, FlamingB1rd, and XarexRaven! You guys are fantastic and I love you all each very muchly so! 3

-MozzyMoo

* * *

"Blegh!"

Reacher lifts up his massive, meaty arm, and I gulp for air, trying to squeeze myself out of the tight space between the window and Reacher's back, my arms wriggling spasmodically, feet shimmying out before the rest of my body. There's a nearly comical stretch to my body as I finally ' _pop_ ' free, staggering and trying to shake the compressed air out of my system.

"Eh, sorry, kiddo, that last bump threw me off." He shakes against me with billowing laughter, and I have to apologize, to myself, of course, for forcing myself to go on this crazy, idiotic, waste of time trip. I don't know if it's worth it. No, definitely not worth this.

"Don't worry, we're almost there." he chuckles, rubbing my hair, mussing it into my eyes. I claw at him, and he laughs again, infuriating my already agitated attitude. I, now that much wiser, decide to view the finale of our arduous journey through a window nearly five footsteps away. Reacher seems amused that I can't go any further. Since our departure from the trainstop near my homestead, my ire towards the old troll has only increased. Along with the number of passengers entering the city.

Another shudder through the trail car reverberates through my boots, and I grip the window port for stability. There, much better. I can see clearly out over the planet.

It often amazes me how...similar to New Haven it is. The landscape, dotted with staggered cabins and massive fields...a few whitewashed Dominion facilities hidden among the gentle curves and blue-ish green grasses and trees...fences...miles and miles of fences. Spotted wildlife, flocks of blue blob birds, the wind sending ripples of white through the grass.

Edges of black smog begin to encroach on the otherwise pure, pinkening sky, signalling an end to the free countryside and an entrance into the crowded buildings of Kerralim City. The train slows, and I glower at Reacher.

"Is this it?"

"Nope." He responds, yawning. "We've got one more before home. Just chill. If you need any room, you can come stand next to me again." I eye the ring of space around him, and how he towers over absolutely everyone in the train. They give him a wide berth, that's for sure. Probably because of the...smell? Ugliness? The muscles?

I got nothing.

The train grumbles to a halt, rocking back and forth. I see a larger crowd outside the port window, and the occupants within our car surge and waver, flowing out, fluxing in. I step back once towards Reacher, hating every moment of it. But I trust him a great deal more than any of the other men eyeing me.

It doesn't take long for everything to settle back into place.

The train lumbers forward again, and I begin to see an increase in the size and number of buildings. A few off road vehicles barrel over the hills, racing the speeding train, falling behind gradually. Roads begin to snake to life, much closer to the train, winding farther away, twining back and through and over us. A single, massive building looms, and, quite abruptly, we're inside a tunnel. I jump, and Reacher pats my shoulder.

"Come on. It's only been a week. It's not like you're a savage or anything."

"You saw me out in the woods, Reach." I joke, snarling for the comical joy of it, a rasp to my voice. "I've already become one with nature. I'm going to chow down on all your livestock."

"Hm, strange. I thought we were going to chow down on _that_." Reacher pokes my abdomen, digging into my shirt, and I smack back his hand, humor immediately drained.

"Hey, not funny!" I hiss, and he laughs.

"Sorry, my bad, I was trying to point at , y'know, whatever this is you caught." He corrects his finger, tapping the bundle of fur and damp meat wrapped together against my back.

"You were way off." I mutter, glowering again, turning to look out the window once more, watching as the number of black and brown silhouettes, each a person trying to find their way through the afternoon alleyways and dusky skyscrapers, begins to increase. Bars of black flicker by, cutting out the setting sun. It had taken the entire afternoon to get back here. It would take just as much to go home.

 _Joy_.

Nearly too soon, the train's speed droops, we enter a tunnel, and I lose sight of the sun's half disclosed eye. The next sight beyond the black is, in fact, where I left. The train platform where I watched...Fredrick slam his face into a wall. Good times.

The claustrophobic landscape gains a lingering haze, smog, the scents and sweating bodies of _so many people._ Shouting can be heard through the thick glass, and snakes of flourescent ribbons slide against the port, substituting white sunlight for faceted rainbows displaying women and pigs alike.

The train stops. The only thing moving is the neverending river of people.

"Actually, y'know..." Reacher mumbles, scratching his chin. "There's someplace I want to show you. Quick, come on."

"Wait, wha'?" I call, but he's already shoving his way through to the nearest door. The crowd begins to sluggishly close back behind him, and I have to dash forward to keep up, through the crack the behemoth had made through the people. Too many people.

I barely squeeze through the closing portals in time, and I have to run to keep up with Reacher's massive saunter, which parts the bustling, murmuring crowds. My shoulder gets bumped to the side, and I'm given a quick memory of darker times. I see metal walkways, enclosed hallways, a very small residence, the mind numbing enormity of space...

I have to take a deep breath to remind myself that I'm not there anymore.

Instead, now, I'm somewhere dank, dirty, full of more people, more filth, higher, more intimidating structures-

"Hey! Keep up!" Reacher crows, using his massive paw to grip the back of my shirt, tugging me through the blaring waves of people. I cough, the taste of grungy clothing tainting the air on my tongue. Reacher again tugs me forward, an animal on a leash. "Come on, it closes soon. I know you're going to enjoy this."

I already want to go home.

"Here we are." he huffs, turning me sharply to the left. The train squeals by, shuddering on its track, its tail slithering away between the rivers of people. Reacher pushes me through an automatic door, ducking his head to enter.

The inside of this building is quieter than the raucous streets outside. A fire flares to life in the back, a man in a white chef's smock tossing bits and pieces of flaming meat into the air, the scent a punch to the nose. A gentle light, from lanterns placed on most of the tables, softens every edge and sharp angle within what I now recognize to be a restaurant.

"Aye!" Reacher shouts, and a few of the occupants at the tables turn their heads. "Looking for pretty boy! Where's he?!"

A dark woman in a waitress's skirt appears behind a curtain beside the chef, smiling. Her eyes flicker to me, judging me, and I subconsciously tuck some of my stringy black locks behind my ear. Her attention returns to Reacher.

"Nice to see you again! Would you like the regular today?"

"Naw, I've got a craving for Terra's stew tonight. Maybe tomorrow."

"You got it chief. I'll go get Ricky now."

I give Reacher an amused snicker.

"It's only been a week, and you've already established a regular?"

He shrugs.

"What can I say-?"

"REALLY?!"

My heart stops. Time slows. I feel like I'm swimming through an invisible mass of syrup. I can barely breath. I turn. My eyes widen. The curtain flares open, a familiar smile and bright eyes revealing themselves bit by bit. His mouth opens too slowly. I try to turn. I try to run.

I'm not fast enough.

" _SSSYYYNTHY-KIIINS_!"

I barely touch the door.

Reacher grabs my ponytail.

I'm swept up into a hug, my life draining away agonizingly slow as I moan.

"Oh, it's been so long, why didn't you call me any sooner I've missed you so much my little partner in space what's wrong you don't look very happy?"

I give Fredrick a tired frown.

"How do you keep up so much energy?"

He kisses my cheek, and I hiss through my teeth.

"I have a 'glass-half-full' outlook on life, baby."

"Don't call me that."

"Why not?"

"Shut up and lemme go."

Someone clears their throat.

Fredrick turns, and I can finally breath.

"So, you're going to introduce me, right?" The waitress smiles carefully, holding out her hand to me. "Hello, my name's Flicker, and..." she casts an exasperated look his way. "I work with Ricky here."

I can barely reach out with my own hand.

"Cynthia, but...ugh, you can call me Synth. It's...cooler. And, unfortunately, I also know this lecher. Ah! Could you let go?!"

"I wouldn't be so clingy if you'd just called me." Fredrick's hands migrate around my waist, allowing me to turn and properly address his acquaintance. She laughs good naturally, grasping my hand with a solid grip. I give her a quick examination.

"Oh, I like your hair."

Extremely short, ice white, mussed boyishly, black streaks running through the mass in places. She grins, dark eyes alight.

"Thank you. You can thank Reacher's girl for it. She's running a pretty big business already. Who knew so many people living on a rock in the middle of space wanted a new 'do, am I right?"

I think I'm going to like this chick. Reacher steps up beside us all, towering and loud and bellowing.

"Speak of the devil, I've got to take Synth to be slaughtered in her name. Actually, could you cook this up? The special way? Just so there's a little kick to the stew?"

"Sure, I'll ask Grease." Fredrick finally pulls his arms away. "Wait, cook what- _oh_ , _man_! I got blood all over my uniform!"

"Serves you right." I growl, shrugging the pack from my shoulders. Flicker giggles, taking the bundle of meat and fur from my arms. She walks us all over to the bar in front of the chef, gesturing me and Reacher to sit on the stools. She unwraps the bundle of velvet brown fur, laying it's stringy legs and long ears out carefully.

"Woah, nice bunyote! Where'd you find one _this_ big?"

I slip off the stool, and Fredrick gasps, gently helping me up. I put my elbow on the counter, pointing at Flicker, then the flabby pack of fur.

"Wait... _bunyote_? They're...they've already got a name?"

Flicker flicks out a knife, twirling it on her knuckles, propping her hand against the counter.

"Well, yeah. We've been catching these things since we colonized the planet. Logic sense, right?"

I glare at Reacher. He raises his hands and raises his brows in a 'how was I supposed to know' kind of look.

I let my hand fall to the wooden counter, then my head. Reacher pats my back.

"Well hey, now you don't have to worry about that anymore, right?"

"Shut up."

"The mystery's over. Congrats, kid. Hey, Grease! An extra serving of spice to the meat, right?"

The cook grunts.

Fredrick hovers close, but someone calls from the other side of the room, requesting his assistance. He pats my back, leaning close.

"Gotta go. Just hold whatever questions you have, 'kay?"

I grunt, head still buried in my arm.

He leaves to attend the customers, and Flicker gives a long sigh.

"So. You're the Synth Ricky keeps talking about?"

I grunt.

"Thought so."

A high chattering fills the air, and I raise my eyes. Her hands are a dancing display of lights as her knife slices up the... _bunyote_. I'm amazed. Her crafting blade neatly and slickly separates the animal into several chunks, then slices, then bits and bits and bits. She twirls the knife with a flicker of white brilliance, tucking it into her apron and picking up the cutting board, handing it to the chef.

"Here you go. So, Synth, where exactly do you live?"

"Outskirts. Near the border of the Protoss lands." I shrug, watching Grease throw my hard work into a pan, setting it aflame. Flicker gives an interested 'ooh', pulling out another cutting board, another knife, a vegetable of some sort. She begins slicing it up efficiently, handing it over her shoulder to the chef, who grabs it, dumps it in.

"Wow, that's brave, considering the tensions we've been having."

My brows crinkle in concern.

"What?"

She shrugs, twirling the blade in her hand.

"Things have been uneasy since the first few years. Nothing outright, of course, but just...the tensions of being...different, I guess." She pulls out a rag, wiping up extra flecks of blood and green flakes. "We're not fighting or anything, it's just...we're a bit too close for comfort, I'd say. Hope things'll change now that the new Executor is here."

"New Executor?"

"Mhm. Protoss Leader? Just arrived a week ago. About the same time y'all did?"

I sit up gradually.

 _No_.

I think of that one stiff. That one...Protoss. The one who was so uppity and made fun of my every movement. The one who forbade me from getting close. The superior, the asshole. Called...Executor.

 _NOOOOOO_.

"Kid? You okay?"

"Meat's done." Grease growls, tossing a pack of paper over his shoulder. Flicker catches it, handling the grease quite well as she pulls out a plastic bag. Wraps it. Hands it to Reacher, who is still watching me with legitimate concern.

I feel like I'm going to throw up.

"I...I don't think things are going to get any better for any of us...if the Protoss I'm thinking of right now...is the one in charge."

Flicker's head bobs back in surprise.

"What, have you met him or something?"

Fredrick slides back into the stool beside me.

"What'd I miss?"

"Nothing, you big-"

I turn and look him in the eye. His bright, light, green blending gold, hazel eyes.

"...idiot."

He chuckles.

 _Wow_.

 _A shower...a toothbrush...a brush...a slick waiter's outfit, minus the blood...has done wonders. The ponytail's a nice touch, too._

"So, how are you holding up without me?"

I shake my head, blurring out his strong, chiseled face and wide, white smile.

"Fine." I reply, icy cold, getting up in time with Reacher. "Nothing too big."

The troll laughs aloud, and I punch him in the shoulder.

"Ah, you should've _seen her_! Oh, she looked like she was in a proper _mess_! Almost like an animal! Crouched like this-" he growls like a beast, squatting against the ground. "Her hair bristling, her teef like dis." He snarls, walking low, jaws bared. I cover my eyes, hiding from the rest of the people watching him. Watching _me._

"Really?" Fredrick asks.

"Oh yeah." Reacher stands, rubbing his nose, sniffing. "If I didn't show up, I think she would have gone full primal."

" _Really_." Fredrick's arm is warm around my shoulder, and I cover my eyes with both of my hands, shaking my head in disbelief and denial.

"That's not true-"

"I took pictures."

"WHAT?! _WHEN_?!" I yelp, and Fredrick holds me back gently from knocking the laughing monster's teeth out.

"Aye, aye, he's kidding, come on, look at his face. I'm sure nothing would have gotten past you." My partner chuckles, hugging my shoulders again, and I roll my eyes.

"Right. Right, I knew that." I growl, shaking out of his grip. "Okay, we've got to go. Let's go, let's go."

"Ey! Waiter! 'Nother refill!" someone shouts, and Fredrick shoots them a pair of finger guns.

"You got it!"

Reacher and I begin to retreat towards the door, allowing it to slide open into the dark, loud, crowds.

"Hey, Synth, wait!"

I turn, only to receive a kiss on the forehead.

"It was good seeing you again. Come back and visit, okay?" I punch his gut, and he 'whoof's, smiling weakly. "Guess I deserved that?"

"Bye, Fred." I hiss, jumping out into the blurred river of faces and voices. Reacher salutes the waving waiter, melting along with me. We flow and walk together, avoiding people and packs and bags and shoulders and signs and streets and life.

I've always hated cities.

I still want to go home.

I'm squashed between two men trying to flow in the opposite direction, and I puff my bangs out of my eyes, squinting, everyone heads and shoulders taller than me, military bred, built for the hustle and bustle.

"You sure we can't wait for the train?!" I shout over my shoulder, and Reacher hands me the bag of steaming meat. His hands grip my waist, and I shriek as he lifts me high into the air, massive paws and roiling, also military bred muscles rippling. He sets me on his shoulders, and I grip his dark, knotted hair in a panic.

"EY-Ey-EY! Watch it up there!" He shouts.

The world lurches, and suddenly, everything shifts. The faces look like stones in a creek bed, staring up at me. I glide through the lights and signs, ducking beneath a low hanging eve.

"Reach! Let me down!"

"It's easier this way! Let me know if there's anything coming up! And warn me when you see a big blue sign! We need to turn down the alley before Titon's Stop!"

I bow down low, leveling with his face.

"You can see just fine!"

"I didn't want to lose you, to be honest. You're so short, someone might have mistaken you for a little kid and taken you. I'm doing you a favor, midget."

"Stinky old giant!"

"Microscopic greasy animal!"

"Oh yeah, well...you..." I've got nothing. So I elbow him in the side of the face. And he just laughs.

"Think of it this way! Less walking for you!"

"Hm." I grunt, settling my chin on his mop of hair, hating it all the while.

I watch the neon signs pass. I listen to the murmuring of a thousand voices, the gentle rocking of my friend's saunter beneath me. The way the darkness itself is soothing, now that I'm not immersed within it. My eyelids droop, and I focus on a single thing.

Blue. The blue sign. Look for the blue sign.

The train rushes by, screeching in the opposite direction, and I startle from my partial slumber.

"Is it coming up?!" He shouts, and I shake my head.

"Not that I can see! Sorry!"

"That's okay! I'm still getting used to the area myself-"

There's something wrong.

The crowds ahead are stopping and slowing. I sit up higher on Reacher's shoulders, and he looks up at me.

"What's up?"

"Dunno, that's what I'm trying to-"

I see the problem. I see what's making them pause. I see what they're parting around. I see what's causing the shifting eyes. The nervous, fearful shuffling.

I see blue. And gold.

"Reacher, hold up." I whisper, and he slows a bit, trying to see over the heads. It isn't much trouble, but he can't see as far, not as high as I am. "It's...Protoss."

The towering aliens are majestic. They stand, they stride in strict contrast to the dark filth they're surrounded by. Clean cut, practically glowing in the dim lighting and flashing colors of humanity. Those they pass by duck down and watch in reverent silence, allowing them to walk by without so much as a 'you're welcome' or prideful gesture. Just...staring.

We tread closer, and I stretch forward over Reacher's head, eyes wide, wondrous.

There's three of them. Heavily armored in gold, helmets arching high over their crests and short, corded hair swaying gently as they clomp through the streets. Two have their faces partially covered by gentle blue veils, their darker shaded eyes flickering and darting like Flicker's knives. Watching anyone who comes too close.

The head of the party has his chest puffed, distended legs stretching and placing themselves heavily against the stone of the walkways, authoritatively digging his toes into the ground, purposeful in his gait. An alpha among lesser animals.

All at once, they're beside us. Reacher stops, struck with amazement. All three look up at me skeptically, faces unreadable, glowing, snapping azure eyes and lowered brows their only noticeable movement and betrayal to their emotions.

I bashfully divert my gaze.

 _Sorry_.

They stop abruptly as one, armor clanging and muscles tensing, steely blue skin painted all the colors of the storefronts nearby. The traffic stops with them. Few are willing to sneak past, their intimidating structures taking up most of the traveling space.

Reacher takes a few steps back, shocked.

All three Protoss squint up at me, lightning sparking within their sky blue depths. The leader steps forward, crown of gold slightly taller than Reacher. I lean back slightly, Reacher leans back slightly, and we nearly topple backwards into the train tracks.

The echoing slither is a billion times stronger, now that we're only seperated by a few feet.

 _You hold psychic abilities, Terran?_

I lump bobs in my throat.

 _Y-yeah?_

 _Hm._

He bows his head slightly, holding his hand over his chest plate.

 _Well met._

 _S-same, dude._

I feel a slithering chuckle slide up my back, and all three of their gazes uplift with humor. The aliens proceed forward, conversation as fleeting as a flock of sparrows. The crowd stares at them as they continue on, bangles and gold and blue embellishments swaying and melting into the darkness of the city.

All eyes turn to me.

I grip Reacher's jaw, and he glances up at me again.

"What just happened?"

"I...think I just called a Protoss...a dude?"

* * *

"We're back!"

Reacher tosses me off of his back.

I land with a crash on the wooden floorboards of his place.

"It's about time! These animals were near impossible!"

I'm sad to find that we haven't left the humdrum bustling life of the city. I pick myself up, wincing and grunting as I straighten my back with a well seasoned CRACK. I find another crowd. Another group of loudmouthed, partying people.

Terra bustles behind a bar, her violently violet hair spiked and spilling over a handkerchief. Patrons are lined all along the counter, asking for drinks and food, and she flies from one end of the room to the other, a force of nature to be reckoned with.

Reacher squeezes in beside her, and she slows, looking through the crowd, catching a glimpse of me.

"Hey, short stack! Over here!"

I force my way through two staggering men, who sing some form of Dominion shanty, slurring out the glory days of the great war. Terra gestures me onto an open stool, turning to pour me a mug of beer. Reacher sets the greasy bag of...bunyote meat down on a side panel.

"Hey, Ter, I got you some of Grease's meat."

"Oh, thank _God_. I've been needin' some of that." she groans, sliding the mug down a ways, to be caught by an open hand, taking the credits given, sliding them into her bulging apron pockets. She opens the meat bag, smiling satisfactory, and someone laughs.

"Yo' hubby be sweet on his li'l wife!"

Her smile is gone. She picks up a glass, chucking it into the waving crowd, and the voice screeches.

"I'M NOT HIS WIFE!" She shouts defiantly, turning to me with a gentle smile. "So, how are you?"

I shake my head, setting it down on the counter.

"Sick."

"Oh. Need some stim?"

"No. There's just...too much going on."

"Ah. I see. Reacher, we're closing early. Synth, go ahead and head upstairs to the apartment, the stairway is just behind that door...yeap, go right ahead while we clear out the joint. ALRIGHT YOU SLOBBERING MUTTS! WE'RE CLOSING UP SHOP FOR TONIGHT! DON'T GIMME ANY OF THAT! Oh, shower's the first door on the right."

"You trying to imply something?"

"Honey, you're a mess. Go clean up."

I duck whining, open mouths, sliding along the wall, gripping a doorknob and forcing myself in. The stairwell is gently lit by a purple lantern, and I climb the stone steps gingerly. I pause at the top of the steps. There's carpet.

I slip off my boots. And socks. My feet are still disgusting. Oh well.

I open the door to their pad.

The inside is nice. A little plain, but I can see some of Terra's handiwork in a few of the lanterns and slashing patterns on the walls. The entire home carries an old black and white schema, splashes of purple making distinct changes in the portrait. I set my shoes to the side, uncomfortable in the silence.

The carpet tickles my toes as I gingerly step into the closest door on the right. The yellow tiles along the walls make my head spin, and I wrinkle my face in disgust. It looks like they haven't quite gotten around to renovating this yet.

I pull the filthy cloth from my skin. My old t-shirt...worn four days in a row now, needs to beliterally peeled from my arms. Animal blood and dirt drift from my bare arms, and I feel a wave of embarrassment. I remember...Fredrick had...hugged me.

I smell awful.

I turn on the shower, removing the rest of the grungy clothing from my body. As the water heats up, I reach out with my hand, feeling the warmth dash through me like a lightning bolt.

I watch in fascination as the first drops impact and send rivulets of black and red and brown down my forearm, dripping from my elbow.

I jump in before I have time to think. The water scalds my skin, and I shriek, flipping the knob in the opposite direction. Ice bites, and I dance in place, hurting, trying to adjust it, shivering violently. It takes a while to balance out the fire and snow, and then...I simply relax.

The door opens, and I see Terra's silhouette through the curtain. She leans down, picking up my clothes.

"I have an extra pair of pajamas for you! They're on the sink, okay? Shampoo and conditioner-"

"I've got it! Thanks, I'll be quick!" I shout over the rushing water, and she leaves.

I run my hands through my hair. Pull them back, the faintest traces of dirt running down my arms. I vigorously rinse out the knotted, disgusting locks, combing through the dark mass, fingers catching every other second. I try to put in shampoo. It helps a bit, but it's all still disgusting.

I wash and rinse. I put in the conditioner, the chemical scents of flowers much unlike the actual thing. Close enough, I suppose. I bend down and scrub my feet, revealing pink, chaffed skin beneath layers of mud and running through fields with no protection to my toes.

It's only been a week.

It takes forever for me to feel like an actual human being again.

And once I do, the water has run gradually cold. I flip it off, stepping out, grabbing the towels laid out, rubbing down and drying up my skin. Who knew it wasn't as tan as I thought it was? The pajamas Terra had given me feel light and airy, clean and pure against my skin, and I hug myself, feeling at home.

I step out to a gorgeous smell. Meat sizzles and crackles loudly, and I hear Reacher relating the story of my discovery to his partner once more. I step to the right, entering a tiled kitchen. Reacher's massive bulk is settled atop the dining table, and Terra stands beside the stove, ignoring him and placing the bits and pieces of meat into a large pot.

"So, she holds the gun to my face, and I have to-oh, hey kid. Thanks for taking up all the hot water. Sure going to enjoy it tonight."

"You're welcome." I yawn. "Terra, do you have a brush?"

"Yeah, in my bedroom. That's the one across the living room."

"I really like your house." I call as I walk through the carpeted main room, and she 'uh-huh's, partially paying attention as Reacher continues to ramble onward. I enter the spacious adjoining room, searching around the king-sized bed, finding the item on an end table beside the closet. I run the bristles through my hair, wincing as it tugs and pulls.

I reenter the kitchen, still trying to comb out the first part of hair, beside my face. Terra gives me a diminutive laugh.

"Wannanother trim?" she laughs, taking a ladle and drinking straight from the bubbling stew. "Gah, _shit_." She coughs as it burns her, sticking out her tongue and and wiping her mouth. Reacher hops up immediately , patting her back.

"Serves you right." he hums, and she turns around to punch his face.

I sit down at the table, dejectedly tossing the brush to the surface.

"I'm thinking a cut, actually. Having this much hair is going to be a nuisance." I grumble, and Terra nods.

"Alright then. Whatever you-REACHER! Knock it off!"

I lay my head down on the table, sighing heavily, closing my eyes, yawning heavily. The scents of warmth and cleanliness edge my nostrils, drugging my mind, causing it to fuzz over as I notice...how comfortable this chair is...compared to my sleeping bag...back...home.

Reacher and Terra turn to see me. Asleep.

They smile, shaking their heads.

I latch onto Reacher like I used to latch onto my Papa as he picks me up.

"Clingy little thing, huh?"

"Shut up, she's not that little. Ah. _Don't comment_."

"This is a nuisance. Can't she walk on her own?"

"Sh, she's exhausted, just put her on the couch."

The couch is nicer than the chair. The blanket is nicer than my sleeping bag. The room is nicer than my tent.

But the air isn't as open here. The space isn't as wide, and it isn't mine. And the sky is reduced to a single, squarish block, filled with more bricks than stars.

I still want to go home.

* * *

Kaldarax: Executor. Executor. Executor. Executor.

Executor: T-T...

Kal: ExecutorExecutorExecutorExecutorExec-

Executor: What.

Kal: 0-0...

Executor: T^T...

Kal:...can we go see-

Executor: NO.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: If I missed anyone's name (I'm sorry, I tried to triple-check), please let me know so I can fix it immediately :))


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